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Chapter 96: In the Can WE TOOK A short break before returning to the scene we planned to start with at ‘Grandma’s house.’ Fortunately, that was a pretty short scene that didn’t involve a lot of cast or resources. Beth was involved in the scene for the first time that morning, but her parts were minimal. Meanwhile, I’d had another wet diaper changed to maintain the continuity that my character hadn’t had one… ‘I’ll probably be visiting those changing stations this week,’ I admitted. There had been no reason to meet the HoloCaretakers I’d heard about from the other Littles in murmurs occasionally the past couple of weeks. They were better about changes than the Bigs. Still, some of them had actual nanny programming, and I’d heard pacifiers and forced bottles happened to a few Littles. I sighed and shook my head, clear of those worries, as we moved to film what was probably the worst scene of the whole project for me. I knew it was also the one that would probably make non-Littles wish they were me! At the action call, I followed behind Charlotte as she cradled a sleeping Beth. Beth’s performance as a sleeping child was quite believable, even as she was nursing a pacifier. We stopped filming at the base of the stairs, started again for the stairs twice, and finally reached the nursery our characters now shared. Charlotte placed Beth on the changing table and changed the artificially wet diaper she wore before dressing her in a purple nightgown. She was tucked into bed, still sleeping, even as I stood by and watched. That particular scene had to be filmed a couple more times so they could get Charlotte’s goodnight kiss just right. It was kind of a cool shot because they filmed her from one side, placing her down on the bed, before virtually removing the wall to let a prepositioned camera get the view from the other side with the wall gone. “Action!” was finally called in the last part of the scene. Charlotte turned from the bed and whispered, “Come here, Brianna.” My not-so-dry diaper was exchanged for a dry one before I was dressed in a miniature version of Beth’s nightgown. As soon as she was done changing me, she carried me from the room and downstairs to the living room. A comfy rocking recliner was against one end of the living room, with a baby blanket waiting on the top of the headrest. Charlotte wrapped me inside of it before I heard, “Cut!” “We good with all of that?” Sebastian asked Will. “It should? I think that worked well. The lighting was good, and we had good coverage as Charlotte carried her down.” “The footage from the camera on the dolly looked good and smooth, too,” Sophia noted. “Okay, Charlotte, go put on the MamaSkin, everyone else, take five!” “MamaSkin?” I asked Sophia as Charlotte sat me on the recliner and walked away. “It’s kind of like the bodysuit Beth has been wearing, but meant to be for an actress playing a nursing mother.” “Meaning?” I asked. “Meaning it’ll prevent you from getting a dose of breastmilk if Charlotte is lactating,” Isabella said from beside me. I blanched, “So I really am supposed to…” “Nurse?” Isabella asked before nodding, “Yeah, and unless you really do want to nurse Charlotte’s boobies, this is the only way to film it and have it look right.” “Not that most boys probably don’t dream of that,” Sophia joked. I rolled my eyes, but as I saw Beth descending the staircase, I asked the important follow-up question: “So what am I drinking?” Gary showed up right then, “Just some plain cow’s milk,” he said. “Promise?” Beth asked, coming up right then. “I even brought the sealed container to show you before we load her with it,” he said reassuringly. When Charlotte returned, I watched as they placed a couple of ‘bladders’ on either side of her that fed into hoses that least to nipples on skin that I would have been convinced was real if I couldn’t see the seams at close inspection. My limited time of seeing nipples in photos led me to believe it was as realistic as something could get. “Comfy enough?” Gary asked Charlotte. She shrugged, “Honestly, this is pretty weird.” “Better than giving the audience a look at your real chest?” he asked. She rolled her eyes, “Trust me, this will look real enough! I’m not sure which would be worse between the fake CGI images and this. I admit I always thought I’d make a lot more money for my first nude scene!” Everyone on set laughed at that. “Someone hand me my little girl, and let’s get this show on the road!” Charlotte said after getting her top back and settled into looking modest and normal. I was placed on her lap, and she gave me a reassuring squeeze as we waited for the crew to finish getting to their places. “Quiet on the set!” A moment later, I heard, “Scene twenty-six, take one!” “Action!” Charlotte made eye contact with me, and it felt like we had an exceptional connection at the moment as she soothingly said, “You’ve probably saved our company, Brianna.” I squirmed as if I was embarrassed and replied, “Hopefully?” “If nothing else, now I know who is responsible and to go after. I’ll call my lawyer first thing in the morning and get them to figure out how we get the police involved.” I shook my head, “It’ll have to be the Feds in this case. Rob and the others are looking at all sorts of Federal charges.” She nodded, staring at me for a moment before giving me a quizzical look. “You know, you could have just told me you couldn’t fix this, right?” I shrugged, “You’ve always been good to me, even before this.” “Even by me forcing you to be my adopted little girl?” “I could have run the other night...? I didn’t have to say yes?” Charlotte pulled me in tighter, “Why did you?” I chewed on the side of my cheek for a moment, looked down, and quietly said, “I knew you were a great mommy?” I looked up at Charlotte and saw several tears streaming down her face. I reached up and wiped one from her face as she gave me a small smile and choked back a sob. “I hope I can be...” she wiped the rest from her face. She suddenly looked down at her shirt, and as I followed her gaze, I realized there must have been another squib-like device, as a couple of moist spots appeared on either side of her chest. She looked down for a second before looking me back in the eyes. “I said I would give you a treat later?” “You already did? I thought that was the restaurant? I’ve never gotten to eat at any place like that before?” I paused, “The food was amazing!” Charlotte laughed, “For good reason, the only Littles there are adopted!” She smiled at me and tickled my stomach teasingly. “No... I had something else in mind that could help you adjust for these last couple weeks before we try potty training Callie again.” “What’s that?” Charlotte smiled at me as she said, “It’s a special mommy gift to you!” I forced my face to move to a panicked expression as if I had just figured out what was happening, even as Charlotte unbuttoned the shirt. I stared for a long moment before she physically adjusted me and placed my face at her nipple. I didn’t latch on right away, having been told to wait until she forced a latch on my mouth. As soon as I did latch, I began sucking away at the now-warm milk. “Cut!” I moved my head away from her chest and reassured myself based on the fact I could stop that it wasn’t breastmilk. “How was the take?” I asked as Charlotte straightened her top. “I think it worked,” Sebastian said. “I don’t think it would go any better if we did it again,” Will agreed. “Charlotte?” Sebastian asked. She looked thoughtful for a moment, “No, I think it worked fine. Let’s get me unhooked from this. Gary, can you get Beth and Carly into their last costumes, and we’ll film the final scene?” She looked at a clock high on the wall, “I think we might be able to get it all finished and in the can in an hour if everyone can hold off on lunch?” “Sounds good!” Will said. “Then take ten, and let’s finish this final scene!” Sebastian said. Charlotte gently leaned forward and let me down onto the ground. I walked with Beth and Gary back to the wardrobe room. My diaper was dry, so I managed to get onto the toilet and successfully went for the first time that day before being changed into a new diaper by Sophia and dressed in a grey sweater dress that was covered with a tessellating embossed series of hearts in the same color. The columns looked like lines from a distance, but it was cute. A diaper cover was pulled up my legs over my diaper, and I was turned over to Isabella. She had just finished putting Beth’s hair in a cute style with two little braids coming to the back of her head and a large bow to hold it in the middle. “There is no way that would last through a day of daycare,” I laughed. “With the nanites, it would,” Isabella said as she lifted me onto the chair we had been doing hair in for the past few days. “I forgot about that stuff,” I admitted. “It’s such an odd thing to use something so advanced on,” I told her. She shrugged, “We’ve had nanites commonly used for over thirty years; I don’t think any of us think it’s that advanced anymore?” “Huh,” I said. I felt Isabella working and knew she had to be making my hair match Beth’s. When Beth appeared in a matching grey dress herself, I knew we were indeed pulling the sisters’ look one last time in the film. BETH FOLLOWED CARLY out to the set as soon as Isabella finished with her hair. As much as she hated the look on herself, she couldn’t help but believe Carly looked absolutely adorable like this! The grey worked amazingly well with their hair and eyes, especially since everything in the playhouse and the daycare was so bright and colorful! As they came out to the soundstage, they discovered both the indoor classroom of the daycare setup and a play yard with the play house were set up and ready to go. Cameras were set up inside the playhouse, and it looked like one was set to do the same trick of making the wall go away that they’d used with the bedroom scene. She saw Charlotte just coming out of what Beth was pretty sure she had arrived in for the day. “Ready to wrap this up, you two?” “Definitely!” Beth said, “I never want to wear another of these outfits again!” Charlotte giggled at that, “I don’t blame you!” Ten minutes later, they began shooting with her, Carly, and a HoloCharacter inside the large playhouse. The HoloCharacter was about a foot taller than Carly but still shorter than she was. The character was playing with a toy pan on the stove, as Beth had Carly sitting in a ‘play’ high chair that was probably just one of those short convertible ones. She tried to spoon a fake spoonful of a jar of baby-pureed peas into Carly’s closed mouth. “You’re the baby; you have to eat it!” she whined at Carly. “But why am I the baby?” Carly whined back. “I’m older than both of you?” The HoloCharacter walked over and wore the sternest expression ever worn by a two-year-old girl, “You littlest, you baby!” Carly looked back at Beth, pleading with my eyes, but Callie said, “She’s right, you’re the shortest. Now sit in your high chair and let Mommy feed you.” Carly was about to fight more when she added, “I’ll tell Mommy on you if you don’t!” With a sigh, Carly pretended to eat the play food and did her best not to let the fake spoon hit her mouth. She managed to actually land it inside twice, though, and Beth smirked as Carly made a face as if she had sand or something in her mouth. When enough time passed that she would have seemed to get bored of it, she said, “All done! What a good baby!” Beth grimaced internally but forced herself to smile as she suddenly squatted and activated her PooPloder. A moment later, Isabella came in to play Miss Terry. “Oh, did you finish feeding your baby, Callie?” Beth smiled and bounced a bit, “Uh-huh! She’s a good baby!” Isabella knelt down, smiled at her, and then turned her around to check her diaper. “I bet she is. Since you’re done feeding her, we’d better change Mommy into a fresh diaper, huh?” Beth looked at her with a confused look, “Huh?” “You’re poopy, dear!” “Nuh-uh,” she started to argue but made a face that sold her suddenly realizing she was. “Bree, come?” “Sure,” Isabella said as she grabbed both girls’ hands and led them inside the daycare. “Cut!” Sebastian called. “Will?” he asked. “All good, I think?” “Charlotte?” He asked. “I agree, I can’t see anything worth refilming. Beth and Carly did a great job with that scene. I thought I was going to lose it when the spoon went into your mouth, Carly,” Charlotte said. Carly stuck her tongue out at Charlotte, “I’m just glad it wasn’t a real play area… can you imagine how gross and how many germs would be on those things?!?” Charlotte laughed, “Babies don’t care though, huh?” “Almost done, everyone; let’s get this final scene in!” Sebastian said. There was a flurry of activity on the set as they reset cameras and relocated a few dolly tracks to smooth out some camera movements. Finally, they stood on the other side of the door to come in, and the call to action was made. Beth awkwardly waddled and followed Isabella to the changing table with her fully loaded diaper. Beth held her arms up even as Isabella leaned over to pick her up and placed her on the changing table. As she placed the safety strap on Beth, she looked down at Carly beside her. “Seems like you’ve got your work cut out for you here, Bree? But I guess you get to start potty training again next week!” Beth heard Carly’s sigh, “Mommy did say that.” Beth frowned deeply, “No wanna use potty!!!!” She then kicked her feet up and down at the end of the table in defiance! “No kicking, Callie!” Isabella warned. “Why not Callie? Being a big girl is fun! And using the potty isn’t a big deal?” Carly asked as if trying to defuse the misbehaving sister. “It’s boring! You have to stop playing!” “But…” Carly was about to argue when she went silent. Isabella was pulling the diaper cover down and the dress out of the way as she looked down at Carly. “Well, maybe you’ll both just have to find out how much fun you can have when you don’t have to stop playing to have your diapers changed!” “Bree, you still there?” Beth asked. Isabella patted her on the head, “She’s fine, she’s just having her own poopy moment.” “Bree poopy too!” Beth giggled. They filmed Beth being let down and Carly being placed on the table in her place. She winced as the contents of the PooPloder-filled diaper were pressed against her. Isabella quietly muttered, “You may never get out of diapers if she keeps that attitude up.” Beth watched from the side as Carly said the final line, “Don’t I know it!” They filmed the completion of the diaper change for good measure before Beth heard, “Cut!!!” Several minutes later, after reviewing the footage, Charlotte said, “That’s a wrap, everyone!” Cheers filled the room, as the crew felt they had done a lot of work to get there the past few weeks! “Okay, Connor, let’s go get you back to being Connor,” Gary said suddenly from beside them. “Cast photo first!” Charlotte insisted. “I guess,” he agreed. All of the crew crowded into the nursery part of the daycare and staged themselves, holding toys and rattles. A few even put pacifiers in their giant mouths. It was a cute photo they showed Beth and the others before they went to get changed. ‘I just hope we can get Carly figured out…’ she thought. Back in the wardrobe room, they helped Carly sit in the hair styling chair, and Beth watched Isabella first deactivate the hair nanites. A bow was still holding the hair in the back of her head. Still, the color seemingly instantly reverted to her usual dirty blonde, and her hair was a little more lifeless. Gary then came over with the tablet that controlled the gender nanites. “Okay, hopefully, this fixes everything here, Connor; you ready?” “Go for it,” Beth heard Carly say. As soon as Gary activated the system, Carly shouted in pain even as she briefly convulsed! When she stopped moving, everyone froze. It looked like nothing had changed!!! ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Thanks for reading! Please press the Like Button! I have some time off this week, so hopefully, I'll be able to get a bigger lead on chapters than I have right now. At a certain point, I may have to cut back to one a week to keep the flow going when my life gets nuts again in the fall. (It's always nuts, but sometimes it's worse than others!) Anyway, if this gets 25 likes by Sunday, I'll give you a bonus. If that one gets that, I'll probably be in the mood to give a third next week. This chapter answered many of your questions, but of course, some remain unanswered. Answers come in those next chapters! (Some of them, at least!) As always, if you enjoy my works, please consider purchasing the completed ones on Amazon Kindle! http://amazon.com/author/babysofia

Hi Everyone. Long time enjoyer of the forum, first time poster. I've enjoyed reading stories about ABDL for many years now, both on her and across the rest of the vast internet. I'm not new to writing, however this is my first ABDL story that I've written, or at least the first one that I felt good enough about to post. I posted this story first on the abdlstories subreddit, and decided "Hey, why not post it here too." I've completed only 2 chapters so far, but I'll continue working on this story. Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and I welcome any sort of criticism. Thank you. Chapter 1: A Day of Relaxation Gone Awry June 2nd, 2023. 2:13pm “Wow, what a shitshow.” I say with a sigh as I unlock the door, stepping into the house. Another tedious day at work. I swear, people always think data entry is an easy position; well I’d like to see them try dealing with the shit I have to deal with. If it’s not my supervisor breathing down my neck, it’s one of my colleagues needing some help with a monotonous task. “Well, at least I got off early today.” I couldn’t be happier with the early release. Mostly because I was about 2 seconds from murdering that idiot Beth. Seriously, how hard is it to save a spreadsheet before you close it out! Well, whatever. Not my problem anymore; at least for the weekend. I hang my coat up on the rack, kick my heels off, and sluggishly make my way over to the couch. I sit down, feeling the weight of the day release from my shoulders. Grabbing the remote from the coffee table, I turn on the T.V and begin to scroll through Netflix, hoping to find something to distract me from my hellish day. From across the house, I can hear the shower running, and a smile forms on my face. No matter what bullshit I have to deal with, I know it will be alright. I know I can come home to my favorite person: Emma. I hear the sound of water cease, and a few moments later, I see what I can only describe as the definition of beauty exit the bathroom. Her long, dark brown hair hanging over her shoulder, still damp from the shower. Her skin covered by a towel around her waist, leaving me just able to see glimpses of her fair, glistening skin. I watch as she begins to head to the bedroom, before doing a double take towards me. I watch as her face brightens up. “Roxie! I didn’t know you’d be home so early! How was work?” She walks over to me and pecks me on the cheek, careful not to let her towel fall. “If I have to fix one of Beth’s screw ups one more time, I’m gonna demand a raise for the extra work.” I say, half sarcastically, but with a hint of seriousness within. “She somehow manages to make extra work for me to do on a daily basis.” I shouldn’t be too hard on Beth. I mean sure, she fucks up a lot, but it’s not exactly her fault. Beth joined the company a couple years back as a receptionist, and she really flourished. I remember when I went in for my interview, and she made me feel welcome, calming my nerves. I’d even go as far to say that she was my first friend over there .Unfortunately, the company has been short staffed these past few months, and moved her over to the data entry department. It’s not like she’s the worst member on the team either. Data entry just isn’t her specialty. Most of the time, I don’t even mind helping her out, but with the rest of today…well I guess it just got on my nerves. “I feel bad for her.” Emma remarks. “It can’t be easy being moved around the company like that.” “Yeah, I know. I’ll text her later and tell her not to worry.” I just hope I don’t forget. My brain feels overworked today. I look up at the clock and take note of the time: 2:30. “Hey babe, don’t you have that meeting in an hour?” A look of surprise shoots across Emma’s face, and I can see a bit of panic in her eyes. “Dammit, I thought I had more time! Oh shit, where did I put my outfit…wait yeah I laid it out on the bed! Sorry babe, we’ll talk more later!” “Do you want some help getting ready?” I ask, wanting to remove some of her worry. “No, I should be fine. You just relax for now. You’ve had a long enough day already.” With a second peck on the cheek, I watch as she hurries her way to the bedroom door, hips swaying as I watch her disappear behind the doorframe. I feel sorry for her at times. Being an account manager for her company's high level executives comes with many perks: free travel, time off and a lucrative salary being some awesome bonuses. However, it also means having to make herself available for dinner meetings, out of state conferences, and other hindrances. I decide to resume my task, and after a couple more minutes of scrolling, I settle on a classic; She-Ra. God, I can’t count how many times I’ve rewatched this series, but here I am, going down the rabbit hole once again. I watch as the red N flashes across the screen, and the title intro plays. After a few minutes, I begin to feel a bit parched, and decide a cool beverage is in order. I get up and make my way to the kitchen. As I walk, I hear Emma getting louder in the bedroom. If I had to guess, she misplaced something. “Where the hell did I put those earrings?!? Come on, I just had…oh, they’re on the desk.” I chuckle to myself. This is pretty normal for Emma, rushing to get ready. I know to give her some space when she gets heated like that, so I continue to the kitchen. Reaching into the fridge, I grab 2 cans of Diet Coke. “It’s not like I wanna get back up later.” I reason to myself. Satisfied with my choice of soft drink, I make my way back to the living room. “Damn, I missed Adora finding the sword!” Having seen the show more times than I care to admit, I elect to not rewind, and just continue watching. I watch through to the credits of the first episode before I hear the bedroom door open. Emma walks out, her outfit finally complete. “How do I look? Ready for business?” She asks, fishing for a compliment. “You look gorgeous as always.” I say, sincere in my words. To me, she is, and will always be the most beautiful woman in the world. Today though, her look is that of an absolute professional. Her white, button down shirt buttoned up, with her black blazer overtop, just screams “I know what I’m talking about” while her ironed dress pants complete the ensemble. She looks at me and her lips, crimson lipstick freshly applied, turn into a smile, and a slight blush appears on her face, clearly enjoying what she heard. “Hearing that makes the effort worth it.” I watch as she walks over to the door, grabbing her purse off the coffee table along the way. As she pulls out her keyring from the bag, she turns to me. “I’m not sure how long this meeting will run, but I’m willing to guess it will be a few hours. You know Andrew; he never shuts up.” She didn’t have to remind me. Andrew is her partner at the company, and he truly doesn’t know how to stop talking. When I first met him at the company Christmas party, he went on and on for over an hour about his trip to the Florida Keys. I was only able to escape due to Emma’s timely rescue. He’s a nice guy, don’t get me wrong, but man can he chat your ear off. “Yeah, don’t let him go off the rails again, or you may not come back till tomorrow.” Emma chuckles at my remark, before opening the door. “Okay, well I’ll see you afterwards, no matter the time.” She jokes back. “Love you Roxie, and don’t forget to message Beth!” “Oh shit, thanks!” I can’t believe I already forgot. “I love you too Amore.” I didn’t learn many words from my heritage, but I learned that one. I should really learn more Italian though. With one last smile, I watch as Emma walks through the door, locking it behind her. A couple moments later, I hear the sound of her BMW starting up, before quieting down as she pulls out of the driveway. I sigh, missing her already. With nothing else to do, I return my attention to the T.V, noticing half of the episode having played whilst my attention was pulled. “Aw man, I’m missing all the good parts.” I say before pausing the episode. I sit back, contemplating what else I can do to pass the time. Just then, a realization strikes me; I have the place to myself for a few hours, and no plans for the rest of the day. I smirk as I figure out my new plan. I have a chance to engage in my own little secret. I get up from the couch and, with a brisk pace, I make my way over to the spare bedroom. Closing the door behind me, I lock it out of habit. I know I have the place to myself, but I still can’t get over my fear of being discovered in my secret activity. I walk over to the guest bed, and bend down, getting on my knees. I reach my hand underneath the frame, feeling around until I find what I'm looking for. With a bit of effort, I pull a wooden chest out from underneath the bed. A simple design, one almost wouldn’t notice anything out of the ordinary, at least until they look at the heavy duty lock on the front. I walk over to the walk-in closet, and head to the back, finding the second part of my lengthy process of hiding my secret. I open up a shoe box filled with a pair of old sneakers. I reach my way into the right shoe, and pull out a small key. I then return the shoe box to its place, and return to the chest. Placing the key into the slot, I twist it with shaking hands, my excitement building with each passing moment. With a click, the lock unlatches, and I place it off to the side, making sure to leave the key inside so I don’t forget where I put it. I slowly open the lid, and reveal my secret treasures. Inside the hidden chest, there are many different items that share the same theme. In secret, I am an ABDL. I’ve had a love and fascination for the kink for as long as I can remember. Once I moved in with Emma, I locked my stuff away in secret, afraid that she would think I’m some kind of degenerate…and I wouldn’t be able to stand that. Pushing that dark thought aside, I look over my collection of goodies, and after a moment, I pull out my first item. I’ve always been a bit of a goth, so when I found out about Rearz Rebel design, it was a perfect match for my aesthetic. I pull out the thick padding, and trace my fingers over the small skulls placed throughout. I quickly pull myself out of my mini trance, and grab the rest of my changing supplies before throwing them on the mattress. I lay myself down next to the supplies, before unbuttoning my black jeans, slipping them off of my legs and letting them fall to the floor. I take a look at my panties, looking over the similar design, black with little white skulls throughout. “No more panties today!” I say, making myself chuckle at my own bravado, before sliding those off as well. I then unfold my diaper, and place it underneath my rear, making sure to get the positioning just right. Once situated, I take a quick look at my body. While the hormones had done a bit of shrinkage, I still had a rather decent, if not average, sized penis. I know some Trans women have mixed or negative feelings about their traditionally male organ, I never quite felt that type of dysphoria. If anything, the rest of my figure was the issue, not the privates I have. Continuing with my mission, I begin to sprinkle a decent helping of baby powder over my nether regions. After all, what baby doesn’t smell like baby powder. Once satisfied, I raise the front of the diaper up, and take my time taping up the sides, wanting to make the fit as perfect as it could be. Finally secure, I let out a sigh of relief, before placing my hand on the front of the plastic, enjoying the thickness between my legs. Feeling a pressure on the front began to make my arousal grow, and I take a moment to enjoy it. “I should probably keep getting ready, otherwise I’ll be here all day.” I hop off the bed and return to the chest, pulling out a black onesie with a cartoon skull on the front. You could definitely say I have a theme for this outfit. I temporarily place it on the bed so I can strip out of the rest of my clothing. I unbutton my black button up shirt, letting it fall away, exposing my bra. I debate for a moment if I should keep it on, before reaching behind my back and unclipping the garment. It just wouldn't feel right to wear right now, with the rest of my infantile outfit. I pick up the onesie, and unbutton the snaps on the crotch before slipping it over my head. I feel the fabric expand and constrict to my form as it gets into place. I reach between my legs, and re snap the crotch of the garb. I reach into the chest once again, and pull out a black pacifier, before quickly popping it into my mouth. With a suckle, I walk over to the mirror to inspect the look. “Just like a baby.” I think to myself, and smile behind the dummy. I admire how the onesie confirms to my frame, accentuating the small curves I had developed over the years. I turn around, and look at the thickness surrounding my butt. Anyone looking would be able to tell what was underneath, especially with the design peaking out slightly around the legs. I finally look how I desire. Taking one last glimpse back into the mirror, I turn back to the chest for the final time, pulling out a black bag, filled with various other goodies. Taking it with me, I unlock the door, and head back to the living room. I situate myself back into my spot, feeling the cushion underneath me. I smile to myself, and I truly begin to feel the stress of the day melt away. After a moment of silent relaxation, I reach into the bag and pull out an oversized baby bottle. Deciding to stick to my already opened beverage, I carefully pour the can of soda into the bottle, before opening the second can and doing the same. I screw the lid back on, and begin to place the nipple towards my mouth, forgetting about the paci sitting between my lips. Giggling at my forgetfulness, I quickly attach the pacifier to the clip on my onesie, leaving it hanging within reach. I then return the bottle to my mouth, taking a sip of the refreshing, caffeinated drink. I place the bottle down next to me, before reaching over to the remote, resuming the episode I was watching. I sat there for a couple hours, watching the adventures unfold on the screen. Having finished my bottle, I had gotten up and filled it back up with water, polishing that off as well. As the 6th..or is it the 7th episode began to play, I returned the paci to my awaiting lips, enjoying my own personal nirvana. Midway through the episode, I begin to feel the results of all my consumption. I take a moment to decide if now is the moment I want to release, before deciding to return my attention to the show. Another series of credits rolls across the screen, and I begin bouncing in my seat, the desperation reaching its peak. I realize that I soon won’t have a choice if I want to go or not. Pulling my legs onto the couch, I get into position, sitting on my knees. With a final sigh, I begin to feel my bladder release, slowly at first, but quickly turning into a flood. I feel the warmth spreading around the front of the padding, which eagerly ate up the onslaught of pee. Many seconds pass by, and after what seemed to be a minute, I feel the flow turn into a trickle, before finally stopping. I begin to unsnap the crotch of the onesie, wanting to see myself how soaked I had become, and I was not disappointed. The entire front of the Rebelz had turned a pale yellow color, and reaching my hand down, I could feel the satisfying squish that only a soaked diaper could give. As I was inspecting my results, I felt my arousal from earlier return in earnest, the front of my padding beginning to tent, my erection making itself known. This time, I decide to do something about it. Reaching back into the bag, I pull out my favorite toy, a wireless wand vibrator. Pressing the button, I feel the device spring to life. I sit back down, feeling the warmth had made its way somewhat to the back of the diaper, before bringing the wand to the crotch of the padding. “Oh, how I missed this.” I say as I revel in the sensations. I turn up the speed a level before beginning to move it around, my privates becoming fully erect in the process. I close my eyes, and begin fantasizing about my usual dream. Instead of my hands guiding the wand, it’s Emma, using the device to provide this pleasure to me. I imagine all the things I wish I could experience with her. My mind plays the scene, me squirming around, feeling the wand to its job, while Emma calls me her good girl, her soggy baby, her precious little. All too soon, I feel myself beginning to reach my climax. With the last few strokes of the vibrator, I feel myself begin to orgasm, spurting my load inside my diaper, which happily accepted the additional liquid. I turn the device off, and breath heavily, basking in the afterglow of my alone time. Just as I finish recovering, I hear a sound to my left, and I open my eyes. My heart drops. Having been distracted by my masturbating, I must have failed to notice the sound of the lock on the door, or the opening of it for that matter. There stood Emma, confirming my worst fears. I begin to panic, before noticing something. Where in my worst nightmares, I had always imagined her with a look of disgust, in reality, here she stood, with a massive grin on her face. “Well, out of all the things I expected to walk in to, this wasn’t at the top of the list.” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- (CW: Shame, Homophobia, Transphobia, Familial Abuse, Mentions of Violence) Chapter 2: Caught in The Act June 2nd, 2023. 5:48pm Dread. All I feel is an overwhelming feeling of dread. For years, my biggest fear has been this exact moment. (I can’t believe I was stupid enough to let this happen! I should have never unlocked that chest!) My internal monologue goes into overdrive, reminding me how I should’ve been more careful, should’ve stayed locked in the guest bedroom, should’ve never engaged in my perverse kink to begin with. I feel my anxiety building with each passing moment. “So…wanna tell me what’s going on here?” Emma asks. I’m unable to read her expression, whether that’s due to my rush of emotions, or her lack of displaying one, I’m unable to tell. (Just talk to her! What’s the worst that she could say? That you’re disgusting, a pervert, a mental case? Yeah…that’s definitely what she’s going to say!) I open my mouth, trying to get any semblance of a word out, just…something. But nothing comes out. Instead, I feel my body enter autopilot, my legs moving faster than I can think, rushing me over to the guest bedroom. I quickly lock the door before collapsing on the floor, holding my head in my lap as the tears begin to form. What if she doesn’t think I’m sexy anymore? What if she wants to leave me? Why couldn’t I just be normal?!? I continue to cry, wishing more than anything that this didn’t happen. But it did. The cat’s out of the bag now, and no amount of wishing would make it otherwise. So I cry; that’s all I can do, is just cry. Suddenly, I hear a gentle knocking on the door, and I hear a voice filled with kindness and concern on the other side. “Roxie, are you okay? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you. I tried calling you to let you know I was coming back, but you didn’t answer.” I mentally kick myself, looking over to my jeans and seeing my phone sticking out of the pocket. Me and my forgetfulness. “Listen, I’m not mad, okay? I just want to talk to you. I don’t want to rush you, but would you please open the door?” I sit there for a moment longer, before slowly making my way to the door. I pause for a moment before unlocking the door, and cracking it open, just able to poke my head through. “I’m so, so sorry Emma.” I say with fresh tears dripping down my cheeks. “I never wanted you to see me…like this. I promise you I’ll never do this again, just please don't…” I’m interrupted by Emma pushing the door open. (This is it, she’s going to yell at me.) I think, before quickly being enveloped in a hug. “That’s enough, Roxie.” She says, only warmth in her voice. “I’m here, and I’ve got you. It’s all right.” I feel nothing but kindness and love from her words, not even a hint of anger in her voice. Hearing the conviction in her voice, a new wave of tears emerge from my eyes. Not tears of fear, or of sorrow, but of pure relief. I stand there, wrapped in her embrace, and continue to let out the emotions I’ve been carrying for too long. It feels like years have passed standing there, although in reality, only a few minutes have likely passed. I feel Emma begin to pull away, and I look down at my feet, embarrassed by my emotional outburst. A moment of silence lingers for a moment longer, before I hear her speak. “Are you okay now?” I see the concern in her eyes, still worried about me. I sniffle a bit, and attempt to regain my composure. “I…I’m okay. Thank you…for the hug…” I trail off “Are you sure? It’s okay to not be okay, you know.” She looks at me, awaiting my response. “Yeah, no I’m okay now. It was just…a bit of a shock is all. Last time I forget my phone.” I attempt to make the situation a bit less awkward with my joke, and I think it worked, maybe just a bit. “Listen, I know you’ve probably got a million different things running through your mind right now, but let me reiterate; I’m not mad, not in the slightest. Why don’t you sit down, I’ll make us some coffee, and we can talk about all of…well, this.” I give a slight nod, and head over to the kitchen table. I watch as Emma walks towards the kitchen, turning back long enough to give me a reassuring smile. (I should take a moment to compose myself. I mean, we’ve gotta talk about it at this point.) I close my eyes, and take a deep breath, holding it for just a moment before releasing, and repeating the process. As I feel myself regaining my composure, I open my eyes to see Emma walking out of the kitchen. She places a mug full of coffee in front of me, plenty of cream and sugar inside, before taking the seat next to me. I take a whiff of the warm beverage, and bring the cup to my lips, taking a savory sip. “Before I say anything…” Emma starts “I want you to talk. What does all of this…” she points to my outfit “mean to you. No judgment, just start where you’re comfortable, and speak truthfully.” Where do I even begin, I wonder. How do I explain all of this? Do I lie? Make up some kind of excuse for why I’m wearing diapers and baby clothes? I look into Emma’s eyes, and I begin to feel at ease. I decide to tell her. I decide to tell her everything. “Well…I’m into all of this. I’m an “ABDL”, which stands for Adult Baby Diaper Lover.” I see her expression remains unchanged, so I continue. “I’ve always had a fascination for Diapers, for as long as I can remember. I always dreamed of going back to the moments of my childhood, even when I was…well still a child. I would dream of being able to go back to Diapers, and just enjoy the carefree experience of an infant. As I grew older, my feeling began to change and evolve, becoming more…complex. Not only was I discovering my sexuality, and how it plays into my obsession, but I also began to figure out more about myself. I began questioning my life, trying to figure out why I felt like I was a stranger in my own skin. I would look online, trying to see if someone, anyone, felt the way I felt. Not only did I find out about ABDL, but I discovered that some people can be “Transgender.” After reading more about the experiences of Trans Men and Women, I finally figured out what was “wrong” with me.” I feel Emma place her hand on top of mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. From the moment I met her, she knew about my gender identity. Having always known that she was accepting, I still felt a little anxious, telling my whole story. I take a breath, and continue on with my story. “Maybe a part of me wanted to relive the moments of my childhood, because I never truly had “my” childhood. I was just pretending to be what everyone thought I was. Now that I knew who I was…I knew I had to hide it.” “Why?” Emma asks. “I mean, I get hiding your interest in Ageplay, but why did you feel like you had to hide your identity?” I wince, reliving the harsh memories like they were yesterday. “I hid it because I lived in the south, and it was the 2010’s. The folks down there aren’t exactly welcoming to those who are…different.” I pause, steeling myself for what comes next. “That included my parents. I knew full well how they felt about “Queers”, and I knew for a fact that they wouldn’t change their minds, not even for their own blood.” Emma looks shocked. “I…I knew you didn’t talk to your parents, but you never talked about why. I can’t…I can’t even imagine the feeling.” “Yeah, it was Hell. But I survived. I buried my true feeling deep down, and continued living a life that wasn’t mine. I got through Middle School, and even High School, hating the changes happening to my body, but unable to do anything about it. I just…tried not to think about it. I buried myself into my school work, doing everything and anything I could do to keep myself busy. Eventually, that paid off, and I graduated with honors. I even got scholarship offers from Universities. And then I finally realized…I could be free. I was about to be out in the world, on my own, free to do as I may. And suddenly, I began to feel alive again. I began making plans. I got myself into school, registered for classes, and got into the dorms.” “So you could finally live as yourself? Sounds like you found a way to be happy.” I looked at Emma. I always appreciate her optimism, but not everything works out as you hope in life. “Yeah it does…but then I made a mistake.” She looks at me with a mix of curiosity, confusion and worry. “It was supposed to be a happy day. I was moving out. I had my car all packed and everything. All I had to do was hop in, turn the key, and never look back. I didn’t do that. For some reason, I thought I could finally tell my parents about who I was, who I wanted to be. I told them I was Trans…and regretted it.” I see a tear form in Emma’s eye, too shocked to even speak. “My father told me I was a freak, a degenerate looser, and that I would be doomed to Hell for my sins. He…did more than yell.” I reached to the neck of my clothes and pulled it to the side, showing off my faint scar from all those years ago. I see a look of shock and anger fill her face for a moment, before returning her expression back to composed. She reaches over, feeling the surface of my skin. “That’s how you got that scar? I always assumed it was from something embarrassing, not something so…so wrong! How could he do that to you?” I’ve asked myself the same question over the years. “He told me to leave, and never come back, or else he’d bury me in the ground. Mom..my mother just stood there, not even looking at me. I don’t know if she was just scared of my father, or if she agreed with him. All I know, is that she wouldn’t even look at me. So…I left, and never went back. That…that was the last time I heard from either of them.” “Roxie, I’m so sorry. Nobody should have to go through something like that.” She reaches around the table and gives me a hug. No tears flowed from me this time though, that memory had already extracted all the tears it ever would. “It’s okay Emma. The story gets a bit better from here. I went to college out of state, finally leaving the bigotry of the south behind, and I moved into the dorms, free for the first time. I even had a dorm room to myself. I swear, when I found that out, I felt that my luck was finally turning around. I finally had the time, space and availability to start being me. I got a part time job, and since I didn’t have any other expenses besides my car insurance, I had a good amount of disposable income. I ordered clothes for myself, started practicing make-up, dyed my hair, and even started out on hormones. I was, for the first time in my life, living for myself. Once I got settled into my new life, my mind turned back to my…other interests. I ordered diapers, onesies, pacifiers, you name it, having it all delivered to a P.O box. People saw me bringing packages to my dorm room all the time; they probably thought it was more clothes or something. It wouldn’t have mattered if the did though, nothing was going to stop me, not anymore. I began letting myself explore my ageplay kink, and let me tell you, the first time I put on a diaper, I felt complete. Everything that I had lived through, all the pain, all the suffering, it was all worth it. So..I kept doing it. And well…that’s where we are today.” I wait for her response with baited breath. “Thank you, Roxie, for sharing your story. I can’t imagine your struggle. I mean, having to deal with all of that…your family, and…just wow. I’m glad you were able to find yourself, and embrace the little within you. I want you to know, I love you, and nothing you’ve told me has changed that.” Emma smiles at me, and I return it back to her. It was my turn now to lean over the table, embracing the woman that I love. Then, something hits me. I never mentioned the term “Little” in my explanation. In fact, Emma used the word “Ageplay” before I even brought it up. I then remember the smile she gave me when I was caught; like she knew what I was doing. Not one point during this ordeal did she ever question the fact that I was wearing a onesie, or a wet diaper for that matter. I break the embrace, and look into her eyes. I ask the question now in my mind. “Emma, you know more about Ageplay than you’re letting on, don’t you?” She looks at me for a moment, then returns that same smile I saw earlier in the day. “Guilty.” She says. “Since you were so open with me, I’m going to be open with you.” It was now my turn to listen. “I’m into Ageplay too. Specifically, I’m a Mommy. I’ve been a Mommy for a long time, years before I met you. I actually started out exploring BDSM, and while I enjoyed all the bondage, and the domination, it was always missing something for me. I was craving that touch of innocence that comes with Ageplay. I won’t hit you with my whole backstory right now. Don’t misunderstand, I’m not hiding anything from you, but you’ve had a long day, and I don’t want to dump too much on you at once. For now, know that I’m just as weird and kinky as you.” I sat there, mouth open. Never in my wildest dreams would I imagine Emma, my girlfriend Emma, would even know about the world of Ageplay, let alone having been involved with it for years. My mind was swimming with questions, but she’s right, it has already been a long enough day. However, there was still one more question on my mind, that I just had to have answered. “That still doesn’t explain something. Why weren’t you surprised with me being into Ageplay? You didn’t seem shocked at all. It’s almost like…” “Like I knew?” She finished. “It’s because I did.” I see a guilty look appear on her face. “It wasn’t intentional, and I wasn’t trying to snoop, but I found your stash months ago. I was looking for my old sneakers, and was surprised to find a key inside the sole. You could imagine my confusion. Just as I was walking out of the closet, I…well, I tripped over my own feet.” I laugh, knowing full well that Emma gets distracted when cleaning and looking for things. “Yeah, laugh it up diaper girl.” We both get a laugh out of that one. “Anyways, I spent the next 10 minutes trying to figure out where I dropped the key. I looked everywhere. I checked behind the dresser, under the chair, and then looked under the bed, where I found your chest. At least I knew what the key went to, now I just had to find the key. Ironically, it was in my shoe. Don’t ask how it got there, I to this day don’t know how it happened. I unlocked the chest, and was surprised by the contents, mostly because I knew what everything inside was. I knew I didn’t have any supplies left in the house, and realized based on the sizes that they belonged to you. Plus, out of all the women I’ve ever met, nobody wears more skulls than you. I then panicked a bit, realizing I had intruded on your secret stash. I quickly locked it back up and put the key back in its hiding spot.” “Why…why didn’t you say anything? You had to know at the time it was all kink-related stuff?” I was now confused, wondering why she didn’t act on her knowledge, confront me, hell do anything with what she just learned. “I didn’t say anything because it was your secret to share. It didn’t matter that I was a Mommy, or if you were a Little, it was your secret, and you shouldn’t have had to reveal it before you were ready. If I was sorry for anything, it would be for not knocking before I came in…but this is my place too, so you could imagine how silly that would be.” I got up from my seat, and walked in close to Emma. She looked at me, unsure of what I was going to do. I move in closer, and bring my lips to hers, kissing her deeply. It lasts for a moment longer, before I begrudgingly pull back, needing to get the words out of my throat. “Thank you Emma, for the space, for listening…for everything.” “Don’t mention it. Now that the emotional stuff is over with, I’m suddenly hungry. How about I order us a Pizza, and we watch a movie, and just relax for the rest of the night?” “Sounds good to me!” I state enthusiastically, glad to put the negativity from before behind me. “Alright, how about you head to the couch and pick out something for us to watch? I’ll call the restaurant now.” As Emma pulls out her phone, I begin walking over to the couch, before realizing I’m still in my little attire. (I should probably get changed. Don’t want to push my luck tonight.) I turn around and start walking over to the bedroom, when Emma places a hand on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks. “Where are you going?” she asks. “Oh, I was just going to change my clothes…for the movie.” I state, not quite ready to talk about my outfit aloud. I don’t know if I was just embarrassed, or if I was afraid she wouldn’t want me dressed like this right now. Emma then gave me a smile. “Don’t be silly, that’s a perfect outfit. Now get on the couch, crinkle butt.” She says, and gives me a quick swat on the butt, a crinkle sound emanating from my rear. A huge smile forms on my face, and I head back to the couch. I have a thought to myself. “How did I get so lucky?”

It's so difficult to portray a character's personality without shooting ahead when you already have their character development planned out in your head. It's just the first day of their arrangement so I have an idea on how to make the character development more clear in the future, I just hope I didn't already fuck it up too much and it actually works out. Big respect to other authors dealing with issues like this. Chapter 8 - Adjustment As I looked up at John, his eyes filled with pride, I couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. "Good job, baby," he said, his voice filled with encouragement. "Was it that bad?" he inquired, genuinely concerned. "It's weird," I responded, trying to sort through the flood of emotions and sensations I was experiencing. "It doesn't really feel bad. I just had trouble doing it." I defended myself with a slight pout. I was determined to fulfill my end of the contract. I needed the money after all. John studied me carefully, gauging my reaction. "Would you be okay with wearing the wet diaper for a while to get used to the feeling?" he asked, considering my comfort. "Or should I change you right away?" He wanted to give me a choice in the matter. I hesitated for a moment, still processing the feeling of the wet padding against my skin. Then, with a tilt of my head and a touch of innocence in my voice, I asked, "Get used to it?" John chuckled at my childish antics but understood my underlying question. "This won't be your last wet diaper, baby," he said, his voice filled with wisdom. "You need to get used to it sooner or later. I just thought we'd get it over with right away." I pondered his words for a moment, but finally nodded hesitantly, my curiosity getting the better of me. The feeling was odd but intriguing, and I couldn't help but wonder how long John would let me stay in it. I knew he was trying to help me adjust, but there was still a sense of vulnerability in wearing a wet diaper for the first time. As John helped me stand up, adjusting my tights and dress to ensure a proper fit, I immediately felt the sag of the wet diaper beneath the layers. It wasn't sliding down; it remained firmly in place, but the middle sagged, and the bulge between my legs was more noticeable. Walking with a diaper between my legs had felt odd initially, but I had grown accustomed to it quickly. Now, however, I definitely felt myself waddling slightly as I followed John out of the restroom and back into the home office. Once we had entered, John began speaking again. "I still need to finish up some work," he said, grabbing my sippy cup from the floor. "Get settled, I'll be right back." With that, he disappeared from the room. I looked around the room at the toys on the floor and sighed. I didn't feel like coloring anymore, and the toy blocks seemed unappealing. Instead, I picked up my plushie star and walked over to the window, hugging it tightly. I yawned, gazing out at the bustling city below. It was barely 2 pm, and I was already feeling exhausted. As I continued to stare out the window, my gaze ultimately fell on my parents' skyscraper in the distance again. Contradictory emotions swirled within me as I looked at it, standing there with a wet diaper between my legs. It was strange how it felt like I was taking back control of my own life by giving it up in this way. I sighed and sat down cross-legged on the floor in front of the window, my diaper didn’t crinkle as much anymore, it squished instead. As I drifted off into my thoughts, wondering what was taking him so long, losing focus in my eyes, I suddenly caught a reflection in the window. There was John, leaning on the door frame with my sippy cup in his hands and a big smile on his face. Our gazes met, and he noticed me watching him too. His smile immediately faltered, replaced with the serious look on his face that I saw most of the time. Basically, all the time, unless he was making fun of me and had this grin on his face that I hated so much. He approached me, looming over me from behind, and I tilted my head upwards so I could see his face upside down. A familiar sight by now. He handed me the sippy cup, but before I could speak up, he put a pacifier in my mouth. I pouted, and he chuckled. There it was, that grin I was talking about. "Be good," he said, "I have to get my work finished now. I'm behind schedule thanks to you." He said it accusingly, but I knew he was playing. After all, he was paying me to be there. I yawned again, this time through my pacifier, and turned my attention back to the cityscape below me. As I heard John start typing on his keyboard behind me, I watched the little ants and cars moving around down there. I wondered what their lives were like. Were some of them wearing diapers like me right now? Were they wet too? I pondered all the sensations I was feeling again. The diaper under my butt was still squishy, but it wasn't warm anymore. Although it wasn't cold either, it was right in between, at the perfect body temperature. The beautiful dress I was wearing, the fabric softly hugging my frame, was definitely one of my favorite things so far that day. That, as well as the French braids in my hair, felt so elegant. I closed my eyes and remembered the feeling of John braiding my hair, it was so relaxing. The pacifier between my lips was a new sensation in the mix. I had had it in my mouth briefly earlier, but now I got to try it out for real. Sucking it softly, I found it soothing, and it felt like a natural instinct. At that moment, I didn't even care about how weird it was. I was entranced. I felt the exhaustion wash over me, and I hugged my plushie star tightly as I laid down in a fetal position, sucking on the pacifier, basking in the sun. I felt so small, so at peace. With these feelings washing over me, I drifted off. I faintly remembered being picked up and laid down on a soft surface, something fuzzy draped over my body. But I didn't really wake up. I stirred a little to find a comfortable position and drifted off again. Some time later, I opened my eyes again, the pacifier still in my mouth. I was still in John's office, but now I was laying on the couch. There was a blanket on the ground next to it, which must have fallen down. I looked over to the desk, but John wasn't there anymore. I saw the sun about to set outside the window. I must have been asleep for quite a while. I stretched and yawned to shake the sleepiness off, but as I did, the pacifier fell out of my mouth. It rolled down the couch and landed on the floor. I looked down at it and remembered rule 4. Hastily, I picked it up and put it back in my mouth, nervously looking around the room to see if John had seen me. I mentally facepalmed myself and blushed. I had already checked if he was there. Thinking about John, I decided I should go look for him and let him know I was awake. I stood up and stretched again. Grabbing my star plushie from the couch, which apparently had served as a pillow, I ventured out of his office into the living room, my head still feeling a bit fuzzy. Yawning with the pacifier in my mouth, I made my way down the steps into the living room and found John sitting on the couch with a laptop on his lap and a glass of whiskey in front of him on the coffee table. He looked to be focused on whatever he was doing. I heard rustling coming from the kitchen and assumed Marge was working on dinner again. I approached John and sat down in front of him on the floor, legs crossed. My diaper squished as I sat down, and I cringed a little. It was starting to feel a little gross by now. I curiously watched John work for a while. He was so engrossed in his laptop screen that he hadn't even noticed me yet. The sight was familiar; I had often found myself similarly focused on my PC as well. Playfully, I poked his legs a little, and he got startled, which made me giggle a bit. He looked annoyed for a second, but his gaze quickly turned soft when he noticed it was me. He greeted me, his attention now fully focused on me, "Hey, kitty, how was your nap?" he asked with a smile. I looked at him dumbfounded, fully aware that I wasn't allowed to speak when I had the pacifier in my mouth. Was this a test or something? He awaited my response for a second before he realized what was wrong and started laughing. "My apologies, I forgot," he said as he grabbed the pacifier from my lips. "Kitty?" I asked immediately, wondering where this new nickname came from. "When you fell asleep on the floor, basking in the sun, you looked like a little kitten," he explained. "You looked so peaceful." He trailed off, his eyes unfocused, clearly lost in the memory. He shook his head a little and returned his attention to the present me. "Anyway, how was your nap?" "Good. I hadn't even realized I was this tired," I replied this time as I yawned once more. "But I could really use a change now." I added, my face wincing a bit in disgust as I shifted my position a little. "Don't worry, I'll change you in a moment," he said reassuringly, but continued in a commanding yet warm tone, "Go join Marge in the kitchen for a bit. I'll get you when I've finished writing this email." With a nod, I stood up, but as I did, I felt a familiar sensation in my bladder again. "Uhm, Daddy," I whispered, drawing his attention back to me. "I need to pee again," I said sheepishly, blushing at the admission. He looked at me a bit dumbfounded, "And? Do you need help again?" he asked, a mixture of concern and annoyance in his eyes. I hastily shook my head, determined not to need his help this time, but I was still uncertain, apprehension evident in my eyes. "Are you worried about the diaper's capacity?" he asked, realizing my concern, or at least part of it. I nodded in response, still blushing about the embarrassment of this topic. "Don't worry about that. The diaper can hold two or three of those wettings," he explained to me, observing my reaction for a second before he added, "Also, in the future, that will be my concern to worry about. I want you to simply go whenever you need to. If it leaks, it's my responsibility to clean it up." He said it firmly. My eyes widened a bit as his words sank in, but I nodded in acknowledgment. "Go on then. I think Marge could use some help in the kitchen," he commanded, redirecting his attention back to the screen in front of him. I scurried off towards the kitchen at that, leaving my star plushie behind on the floor. "Greetings, Miss Feli," Marge greeted me as I entered the kitchen, "how nice of you to join me. Would you like something to drink?" she asked, and I nodded instinctively, even though my bladder was still demanding attention. I ignored the urge for now, deciding to deal with it later. "What are you cooking?" I asked curiously, looking over at the stove as Marge grabbed the already rinsed-out sippy cup from the sink and filled it with juice. "I'm making a meatloaf with mashed potatoes and some vegetables," she explained before handing me the sippy cup. I immediately took a sip, my throat parched from the nap. "Wanna help me?" Marge asked, and I nodded instinctively. However, I was surprised to see her cook such a down-to-earth, home-made meal. I expected something fancier. Marge then showed me how to mash the potatoes, and I had to use all my strength to get them mashed properly. It was nice cooking together like that. Again, something I've never experienced before. As a child, we had a private chef, and when I moved into my own apartment, I was always alone and didn't really know how to cook proper meals anyway. Once the potatoes were properly mashed, Marge put them back on the stove, and we sat down at the table while we waited for everything to cook. I asked Marge about the meal, and she was in the middle of telling a story about how her mom taught her all these recipes when my bladder demanded attention again. This time, I decided I would try to give in, so I closed my eyes and followed John's instructions from earlier. I imagined sitting on a toilet, blocking out everything around me. I took a deep breath and relaxed. Lo and behold, I was wetting myself for the second time that day. Relieved, I let out a sigh, proud of myself for wetting my pants in the kitchen while listening to Marge's story. Wait, what story? Marge had stopped talking. Apprehensively I opened my eyes again and found Marge watching me closely with a warm smile on her lips. "Your potty face looks adorable," she said, and I blushed furiously, looking down at the table. "Don't worry about it, I've seen plenty of potty faces," she reassured me. "Though yours is the most adorable." How could she make me blush even more? And what did she mean she had seen plenty? Quickly, I grabbed my sippy cup and took a long sip of the juice as a distraction and to calm my nerves. The diaper was feeling noticeably bigger and squishier now; I couldn't even move my knees together anymore. The newly added warmth made it more comfortable again, although it was feeling pretty full already, and I didn't think it could hold much more than that. After Marge had finished her story, she turned her attention back to the kitchen, while I waited at the table and watched her. My head was resting on my arms, and I lazily kicked my feet back and forth, pondering about the day. As the minutes passed, I grew hungrier with every passing moment as the savory smells filled the room. Suddenly, I was startled by a poke on my back. I screeched and jolted my head around, only to be met with a mischievous grin. John was standing right behind me. "Payback," he chuckled as he watched me collect my nerves again, and I blushed. He had caught me completely off guard, and I kind of deserved it too, but his laughter was contagious this time and I joined him. "How is your diaper holding up, baby?" he asked me once we had calmed down. "Warm and soggy," I replied with a pout, which he didn't pay any attention to, though. "Good girl," he praised me instead, "Let's get you changed then." With a blush, I followed John out of the kitchen and into the living room. As we entered the room, I couldn't help but feel a mix of embarrassment, nervousness and excitement. My heart was racing at the thought of him seeing me naked again, but I was also glad to finally get changed out of my soggy underpants. He had laid out some kind of plastic mat with childish designs on the rug. I saw a fresh diaper, a pack of wet wipes, and a bottle of baby powder next to it. This new diaper looked a bit different, though; it was thick and pink with little stars on it. My eyes were fixed on it, and he must've noticed, as he picked it up and held it out to me. Tentatively, I reached out for it and inspected it as he began explaining, "These are your nighttime diapers. They hold more and don't leak as easily when you pee while laying down. Don't they look cute?" He asked, and I nodded with a slight blush. They did look kind of cute. I folded it out and was transfixed by the design, carefully tracing my finger over the plastic. "Oh, and they also swell up a bit more when you wet them," he added matter-of-factly, "They are specifically made for people like you." "People like me?" I asked immediately, my curiosity piqued, wondering what he was talking about. "Age Players," he clarified, "People that enjoy wearing diapers and pretending they're little kids or babies." He explained, and I furrowed my eyebrows in response. "But you're making me do this!" I protested, and he held up his hands in an innocent manner. "Yes I am. But maybe one day you will enjoy doing this,” he said with a smirk, and I blushed at that. Little did he know that I already didn't really mind most of this stuff. I could see how some people are enjoying this. But for me, it was just a job, something to get me back on my feet, I reassured myself. "Now let's go," he pulled me out of my introspection, "Lay down so I can get you changed, Miss Soggypants" he commanded me, and I blushed even more as I complied. I really hoped this new nickname wouldn't stick; I much preferred "Kitty" or even "Baby." I laid down on the plastic mat, which was crinkly and soft, and I figured it must be a changing mat or something to protect the rug from my soaked diaper. I hid my face again as he began untaping my diaper, embarrassed by him seeing me naked. He had untaped the soaked padding and was wiping me down, the cold sending shivers down my spine, when he remembered something. "I'll be right back," he said after he was done wiping, leaving my lower body exposed to the world. I had opened my eyes again while he was gone and a few seconds later, he returned with a razor and shaving cream. I winced a little at the sight, remembering him mentioning it earlier. Surrendering to my fate, I laid my head back down and sighed. It tickled a bit to have him shave me, and he expertly applied baby powder and taped up the thick nighttime diaper. I was completely lost in my own head at that point. Sometime during the shaving, I had tuned out my surroundings and surrendered to his touch. I was brought back to reality by a pat on the diaper and his fingers tickling my sides, to which I only replied with furious giggles. "Look who's back," John grinned at me once I had calmed down, "You were completely tuned out there, but you are all clean now. How does it feel?" "Much better," I replied with a smile and a nod. The bulk was noticeable even when dry, and with my pubes shaved, it felt much better. However, I figured he mainly did it just so he has an easier time cleaning me up in the future. "Dinner should be ready by now. Let's fill up that tummy of yours," he said and patted my stomach before helping me on my feet. I giggled again when he touched me; I was really ticklish. Dinner was absolutely delicious once again, thanks to Marge's skills, but she said me mashing the potatoes gave it a special touch, which filled me with pride. I was flushing down the last bites of meatloaf and mashed potatoes with juice from my sippy cup when John spoke up. He had already finished eating. "Once you're done, I've got a surprise for you, and after that, we can go watch a movie before bed," he said, his tone filled with excitement. I nodded eagerly; I loved surprises. Or at least the good kind. Not the kind of surprises where you get a letter from your parents at your graduation telling you they're cutting you off. I winced at the thought, but quickly shook it off. This was a good surprise, at least that's what I figured from his tone of voice. "I'm done!" I exclaimed with a big nod, but he just chuckled at me. "What about your veggies?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. He gave me that commanding look again that always sent chills down my spine. I looked over to the fridge to check my rules and sure enough, rule 5 was staring right back at me. I furrowed my eyebrows and looked back at the vegetables on my princess plate. "Rule 5" I mumbled, barely audible, and reluctantly picked up my kiddy fork with a small pout. John gave me a big satisfied nod in response. It wasn't that I don't like vegetables, but I just ate the better things on my plate first and then wasn't hungry anymore. With dinner completed, John led me through the living room into the corridor. We stopped in front of the door that was opposite his home office. "This will be your room for the next month," he said as he opened the door and showed me inside. I was speechless, my mouth slightly agape in awe as I took it all in. This room looked like a toddler's dream. I wasn't a toddler by any means, but if I was, I would've probably loved it. Although I wasn't the biggest fan of the color scheme; it was too bright and pink for my taste. My eyes scanned the room, taking it all in, as John stood behind me and held my shoulders. The back wall of the room was covered by yet another top-to-bottom window, and in front of it, in the right corner, was an oversized toddler bed with pink sheets. There were railings on both sides of the bed resembling a crib, but it was low enough that it wouldn't prevent someone from getting out of bed. It should prevent me from falling out of bed, however, but I didn't suspect this to become a problem. Opposite the bed, covering the whole left wall of the room, was a big white wardrobe with a full-size mirror on it. Next to the bed on the right side was an oversized changing table, with lots of diapers and supplies stacked under it. I guessed this is where he got all the diapers from throughout the day. At the foot of the bed, in front of the window, was a big toybox with a fluffy-looking rug next to it. Everything was in shades of pink or white. "What do you think?" John asked me expectantly after giving me some time to take it all in. "It's... pink," was the only thing I could reply. I was overwhelmed by the thought of this being my room for the next month. Confusing emotions were swirling inside me, thinking about it, but one specifically stood out to me. I was... excited about it? I shook my head in disbelief, thinking about how easily I went along with everything today. A chill ran down my spine. Why was this exciting me? I just turned 18 a few days ago, not 6. John must've sensed my discomfort as he pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts. "We can redecorate it if you want to. Maybe repaint the walls?" he asked, gauging my reaction. I nodded hesitantly in response. "Yeah... I mean, it's fine, it's just... I don't know." I mumbled. I really didn't know. I had been fine the whole day, going along with everything, even wetting a diaper and having John change me, but standing here in this room made it all suddenly feel so real. "I'm doing this for the money, it doesn't matter how I feel about it" I told myself and shook my head. I turned around and gave John a big, but fake, smile. "Thank you, Daddy" I said, and he smiled back, although I could feel that he saw right through my facade at that moment. "Let's go relax and watch a movie, today must've been a lot for you," he said compassionately, and I nodded. He was right; I was completely overwhelmed by today's events.

I don't think anyone is complaining. Its a breath of fresh air that Carly actually wanted to be a girl. Seriously though its messed up how those nanite treatments are only for adopted Littles. How many want them but can't get them without sacrificing freedom?

Seventy-Three Memo to Staff: In the coming days, Clark Ashburn will be joining our team as an assistant to Gabrielle Heller. Most of you should know Mr. Ashburn already–either from his occasional visits to the office, or by reputation alone. While Clark’s core responsibilities will be in aiding Ms. Heller, he’ll also be available to assist in the office’s overall day-to-day operations. If you have any projects or tasks that you haven’t been able to get to yourself, please send details to Ms. Heller. Clark will remain diapered while in the office, just as Risa is currently and, previously, Bradley had been. === Step 3: Get back into the workforce. I had seen working as one of the last things I’d care about on my journey from overgrown toddler to adult. But, following my conversation with Mommy–and her proposal that I come work for her, once again, it made sense to bump it up the list a bit. Besides, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense to do this sooner rather than later–it felt like an extension of my first goal, which had been to get out of my babyish bubble. “My my, don’t you clean up nicely,” Mommy said, drifting into the nursery as I stood in front of the mirror, attempting to tuck my shirt into my slacks. The pants–yet another gift from Mommy–probably would’ve fit incredibly well if it hadn’t been for my diaper. Now, things were going to get pretty tight down there. “D-does my diaper look obvious?” “Yes,” she nodded. “But you shouldn’t be worried about that. Everyone knows you wear them.” In the mirror’s reflection, I saw my cheeks were glowing pink. This wasn’t actually a surprise to me–I had visited the office a few times. They knew who I was and what I was about. And I wouldn’t be the only baby in the office. Mommy’s words were, however, a reminder that this wasn’t going to be a traditional job. I had a new question: “Do I look…adult?” She shrugged. “Maybe? It’s hard for me to say, since I see you everyday. And you just always look like a baby to me.” “Yeah…fair enough.” “Are you nervous, Baby?” she asked. I laughed. “Yeah. Of course I am.” Shortly after the exodus from our old company, Mommy and Ms. Beaufort had cobbled together a consulting firm called Beaufort and Heller. It had come together so quickly that I had to assume that at least part of this plan had existed before Mommy stepped down from her previous role as CEO–perhaps as a back-up plan, should the baby-business ever go south. The nitty-gritty details of what this company did, or who its clients were, were still mostly lost on me, but it seemed that the two women were quickly finding success with this new venture. From my vantage point, I had always figured that Mommy was happy with her role as CEO. And maybe, on some level, she was. But it wasn’t until I started watching her pour herself into this new partnership with Ms. Beaufort that I saw an actual passion for work in Mommy’s eyes. She liked building a company from the ground up. She liked operating without a faceless ‘Board of Directors’ hovering above her. She liked the business trips and meeting with clients face to face. “I was tempted to put together a diaper bag for you to take to the office,” Mommy said, pouring herself a travel mug of coffee in the kitchen while I waited for her near the door, my body bobbing back and forth with anxious energy. “But I doubt we’ll need anything that isn’t already there." One of the first things that Mommy and Ms. Beaufort did was to set up an office. And that office, it was decided, would be a baby-friendly place. There had been, at first, two ‘office babies.’ The first was Bradley, who had jumped ship to follow Lyndie soon after the Thomas Pritchard incident. Technically, he wasn’t anyone’s assistant in the new company, though it sounded like he was sticking pretty close to Lyndie regardless. I never got any good answers on what–if anything–happened in the strange triangle between him, Nancy Tamberlin, and Lyndie. As best as I could tell, Ms. Tamberlin was pretty busy at the old company, cleaning up that mess. In a few months, it wouldn’t matter anyway–Bradley had moved away. The other, and now the only office baby, was Clarissa–Risa, as she went by. I had only met her once and knew little about her, though she seemed well-liked. From the stories that Mommy told me, she seemed to have adapted to her role as baby rather well. I could have misheard, but I thought I might have caught a part of a conversation once in which Ms. Beaufort said that she had found this new assistant by specifically looking for someone already into diapers and acting like a toddler. “My little boy is growing up so quickly,” Mommy said while her car was stopped at a red light, en route to the office. I wasn’t sure whether to attribute her smile to sarcasm or sincerity. I was thinking about what I heard her saying on the phone to Ms. Beaufort the other night–the things she said when she didn’t know that I was listening. She had talked about the uncertainty, and fear, she felt at the prospect of me moving forward with my life. I still wasn’t sure what I should do with that information. Was I to slow myself down a little, perhaps even giving up my ambitions at being a ‘normal’ 20-something? Or did I continue ahead and let her figure out the next part of her life herself? “Am I, uhm, going too fast?” I asked. “You should go as fast as you need to,” she said. I studied her face, and her tone, for hints as to how she really felt, but I could only guess. I wanted to keep the conversation going, but I thought it was best to leave it at that for now. Soon, we were pulling into the office building’s parking garage. The old brick building housed a few other small companies–most, according to the directory listed near the entrance, were things like accountants and law firms. I doubted that any of them had people waddling around the office in diapers. We stepped off the elevator soon after, made a short track down the hall past one of the many accounting firms on this floor alone, and Mommy opened the door into the office of Beaufort and Heller. “Well, would you look at that,” Lyndie said from the front desk. Her and Amber had been going over something at the front desk and they both looked up at me, big smiles on their faces. “Clarky, you and I are working together again!” “Y-yeah,” I said, running a hand through my hair. “How about that?” Lyndie was the very first person hired for the new company. And while I had no doubt that she was still changing diapers when she could, she was no longer just the babysitter. She was handling a number of administrative duties, including accounts payable. “Hello, Clark,” said Amber. “It’s nice to see you again.” “Likewise,” I said. “Hello.” Amber was currently the receptionist–though Mommy had mentioned the possibility of making her a personal assistant of sorts. Albeit, one that did actual work, as opposed to just wearing and using diapers all day. Her long bronze hair looked like a fantastical veil in the fluorescent lighting of the office. I wondered what her take was on the company’s baby-culture. “I tried to rally the troops for a little meet and greet this morning,” Amber said to Mommy. “But Sam has been on calls all morning, and Neve is running late. So…there’s bagels in the break room. Help yourself whenever.” She sounded a little annoyed that her plans hadn’t come to fruition. “That was very kind of you to try,” Mommy said, strolling past the front desk. “Clarky? I believe you’ve met everyone here before, yes?” “I believe so.” Amber I knew from my visits to the office, and I had met Risa once. That just left Samantha Roberts–an old friend of Mommy and Ms. Beaufort’s. We had only met once, in passing. She seemed nice enough, but I had heard that she wasn’t as enthused about the whole baby thing. Still, she came to the office everyday, despite people waddling past in diapers, so I figured she couldn’t have hated it all that much. Besides, Mommy said she’d come around eventually. “Let me show you to your desk,” Mommy said. “Actually, Ms. Heller, you have a call in a few minutes with that guy from Boise in a few minutes,” Amber said. “Ah, right…” “Why don’t you go and get ready for that,” Lyndie said. “I’ll take care of Clark.” “He’s dry, if that’s what you mean,” Mommy smirked. “But you can show him to his new desk.” Lyndie laughed. “Will do. C’mon, Clark.” And so I had been passed off. Mommy went in one direction, and I followed Lyndie in the other. “Busy today?” I asked, mostly gauging whether or not my presence was going to be a burden. “Not yet,” she shrugged. “We’ll see how the day goes. Are you going to keep my hands full?” “W-we’ll see.” When I had imagined walking back into an office again, I imagined doing it without a diaper underneath my pants. That wasn’t the case today, though. For now, I was still well-padded and probably would be for a while yet. Still, it felt like a good time to practice my control. Accidents were inevitable, but if I could start being more conscious of when I was going, I figured I’d be in better shape when Mommy was willing to give me some underwear back. And, should I have an accident, this seemed like the place to have it. Walking through the office with Lyndie, I could detect trace amounts of baby powder in the air. Here, unlike the old office, I was almost expected to be having accidents. Most would probably even encourage it. “I know you’ve been here a few times, but I’ll give you a little tour anyway,” Lyndie said. I was thankful for this–most of my visits to the office had been brief and I had been far too baby-brained to remember where anything was. “There’s Neve’s office. It doesn’t look like she’s in yet, but there’s Risa, her assistant.” Risa looked up from behind her computer monitor and waved. “Oh, Clark! Hello!” She quickly got up from her seat–the unmistakable sound of a crinkling bottom following in her wake–and she rushed to me, giving me a hug. I was caught off guard, seeing as how I barely knew her and she was embracing me like I was an old friend. Perhaps she was just happy to not be the only baby in the office now. I hugged her back. She had this adorable little round face that practically screamed ‘baby.’ And if it wasn’t the face that did it, it would’ve definitely had been her dark hair–pulled into tight pigtails on either side of her face. I was certain people called her a ‘babyface’ for most of her life. Maybe, at some point, she just decided to lean into that. “It’s, uh, nice to see you again,” I said. “I can’t wait to work with you,” she said with the surprising eagerness I’d associate with a fangirl at a pop culture convention. I appreciated the sentiment, but I just wasn’t ready for the intensity of the delivery. “Y-yeah, ditto,” I said, giving her the warmest smile I could. Lyndie quickly ushered me forward in the tour. Once we were out of earshot: “Risa is nice, but…she can be a lot.” “Is she like that with everyone?” “Most people. But I do think she was pretty excited about you joining the team.” “Me? Why?” Lyndie laughed, shaking her head incredulously like she couldn’t fathom how I didn’t already know the answer to that. “You’re kind of a legend in here, Clark.” I had to ask again: “Me? Why?” “Of all the babies, you’re the babiest. You didn’t just wear diapers to work. You became a baby. You moved in with Gabrielle. ‘Hashtag: Lifegoals’ for Risa. And Bradley, while he was here.” “Oh.” I hadn’t ever spent much time with Bradley. I was surprised that he ever thought of me at all, let alone had wanted to be me. “Don’t let it go to your head, Clark. You’re still wearing a diaper to work.” “Right, right.” “This is just like old times, eh? It’s nice to be working with you again.” “Same,” I said, feeling that familiar warmth in my cheeks. We ventured forward, the tour continuing. “Here is Samantha Roberts’s office. Maybe we can stop in and say hello, or…” Through the office’s glass door, we could see Samantha was on a call. Given the way she was gesturing, I had to assume it was a video conference, though maybe that was just the way she talked. “We’ll come back later,” Lyndie said. “I heard she’s not really into diapers.” “I think she was more interested in the job than she was the culture,” Lyndie laughed. “But I’ve seen the way she stares at Risa’s bottom. I suspect she’s, at least, curious.” Onwards past the next office door. This one was open, and on one side I could see a desk, and on the other was a changing table. “This is my office,” she said. “The changing table,” I said, pointing to it. “Is this also a nursery?” “That was the original plan,” Lyndie laughed. “But if Neve was here, and we looked into her office, you’d have found a changing table in there too.” “Oh. And…” “Yep,” she nodded. “Gabrielle has one in her office too. This was kind of amazing to me. It would have been the dream of our group back at the old office–a workplace that not only didn’t have to hide the weird baby stuff, but seemed to completely embrace it. “What about when clients come?” I asked. “That’s what the conference room is for,” Lyndie said, pointing to the next room. “Yeah, that makes sense,” I shrugged. “And here are the bathrooms. Not that you’ll have as much use for those.” “Not yet,” I said, a juvenile defiance coming through in my voice. “But I’ll get there.” “Sure, sure. Oh, and there’s the room you probably know the best, here. Mommy’s office.” “And is that…” “That’s your desk, right out in front of her office door.” That brought me back to the old office too, where I sat just beyond her office so that she could keep an eye on me easily. I felt a tear welling up in my eye, which I quickly wiped away–I was surprised at how emotional I was getting by just having a desk of my own again. I didn’t realize how much I missed the concept of work until now, just as I missed responsibility. Purpose. I sat down in the shining new office chair, feeling the casters smoothly glide back and forth on the floor. The computer on the desk had two monitors, the blue glow from them spilling off the desk and onto my chest. I felt like a fool, getting so excited about such things, but it was good to be back. “Gabrielle says she’s putting you to work,” Lyndie said. “Like…actual work.” “Good. That’s what I want.” She laughed and shook her head. “You’re so weird. Also? Open that drawer on the left side. I got you a little welcome-back gift.” “Really? Oh, wow, Lyndie. You didn’t have to do anything like that. It’s honestly nice just to be back in an office again and…” I opened the desk drawer and found a pacifier. “I got that online,” she beamed. “Custom made.” The mouth guard had little lettered beads affixed to it, reading: STINKY. “Wow,” I sighed. “How thoughtful.” “I thought you’d like it! Want to give it a test drive?” “Maybe later…” “Suit yourself. Well, look, I’d love to chit-chat, but I do have a few things to do this morning. I think your login information is written down by the keyboard. Why don’t you check your email–I sent you some tutorials on some of the software you’ll probably be using most.” That was my big sister–always looking out for me. “Thank you.” “You’ll be okay by yourself if I go back to my office for a little bit?” “Yeah, of course.” “Okay, good. Either myself or your Mommy will check in on you as soon as we can,” she stated. ‘Your mommy,’ made me feel like I was in kindergarten though. She started to walk away, stopped, and then quickly came back. “Oh, one more thing. Your Mommy would kill me if I made you sit here in a dirty diaper.” “But, I’m not…” “Stand up, Clark. I have to check your diaper.” “Here? But…” “This isn’t like the old office, Clark. We don’t have to hide in rooms with the doors shut anymore. I’m treating you just the same as I would Risa over there. In fact, you’ll see me checking her diaper in a little bit. If, that is, we don’t smell her first.” “Hey…” came an exasperated moan from over at Risa’s desk. I stood up at my desk, not quite sure what a ‘diaper check’ entailed at this office, but interested in finding out. I expected that the world around me would stop so that it could stare at me, but from my vantage point that didn’t seem to be the case at all. I couldn’t see Amber’s desk from here, nor could she see me. Risa was staring ahead at her computer. And while I could see directly into the window in Ms. Roberts’s office window, she still looked completely consumed with whatever conversation she was in. “Why don’t you pull your pants down for me,” Lyndie said. “It’ll make this a lot easier.” “But…” “Just do it,” she sighed. Wild. A few months ago, Thomas Pritchard had done this exact thing–revealing his diaper in the middle of an office. Except, where as he had set off a destructive chain reaction of events–nobody was blinking an eye when I did it. There I was–pants pulled down to my knees at my desk as Lyndie inspected my diaper. “A little damp,” Lyndie shrugged. “But you’ll last a while yet, barring any major catastrophes.” “Hey,” Risa said, her head poking out from behind her desk. “What kind of diapers are those?” There was no alarm or concern in the tone of her voice. She asked it like she was asking me where I had gotten my shoes from–like it was just another everyday thing. “Oh…uh, I’m not sure,” I shrugged. “Mommy…er…Ms. Heller buys them for me.” My cheeks warmed a little more at having said the ‘m-word’ while in the office. “MegaThicks,” Lyndie replied confidently, playfully smacking my bottom. “I’d know these bad boys anywhere.” “They’re cute,” Risa said, her head turning to focus on her work again. Wild. “Okay, pull your pants back up. I’ll see you later.” A few minutes later, it felt like my old life was starting to come back to me as if there had never been any interruption. Just the basic motions of using a mouse and keyboard gave me a sense of nostalgia. Thinking back on my work history–though I could probably go a little further back and lump school in with this–I had never felt particularly motivated. I did what I had to do, but I had no passion for work. Now, I wanted to dive into it. I wanted to learn every platform. Study every spreadsheet. I wanted to be in some meetings and listen to other people talk about what needed to be done next. Soon, I had a notebook open and I was taking notes. I had post-its stuck to the sides of my monitor with references to things that felt especially important. And then, a familiar scent wafted into my nose. Oh shit, are you kidding me right now? I thought, for sure, that I had somehow pushed an enormous mess into my diaper without even realizing it. It wouldn’t have been the first that happened. But I was able to quickly rule myself out as the culprit, as it was rather obvious that I wasn’t sitting atop a foul load. Which meant that it was probably… I looked over towards Risa’s desk, where she continued to tap away at her keyboard, eyes fixed on her monitors like she was deep in the throes of some important project. I glanced around the rest of the office, seeing that Mommy, Lyndie, and Ms. Roberts were still sequestered in their offices with the doors closed. I wondered if Amber could smell this up at the front desk. And, if she could, I wondered what she thought about it. I probably didn’t need to say anything, but I couldn’t help myself. “Is, uhm, that you?” Risa had a look of surprise on her face for a moment, like she had pulled from whatever work-trance she had been in. Her cheeks got a little rosier as she looked in my direction. “Yeah… Sorry about that,” she shrugged. But she didn’t sound all that sorry. “Oh, you don’t have to apologize. Just wanted to, uh, make sure.” She laughed. “I think you’d know if it was your accident.” I couldn’t get over how surreal the moment felt. Back in the old office, we fretted and panicked when something like this happened. We worried about who could smell our diapers, or who might notice a lump in the back of our pants. And now, here I was, at a place where someone could just nonchalantly load the seat of the diaper with a stinky mess and continue sitting there–doing their work with no fear of consequence. “Sorry,” I said. “I just… I need to get used to this.” “Ah,” she shrugged. “Maybe I should’ve warned you first? I think I just got used to letting go when I needed to.” “No, no,” I assure her. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” “Well, don’t be afraid of doing the same. I mean, that’s what the diapers are for, right? And I’m certainly not going to judge you.” I almost wished that she hadn’t said that to me. I was trying to grow up. I was trying to reduce my dependency on diapers. And, here in this new office, I was hoping that I could build a reputation that didn’t revolve around me smelling like I needed my diaper changed. But… I was still wearing diapers. And I had taken a rather big step forward just by taking a position at Mommy’s company in the first place. Surely I couldn’t be expected to accomplish all of my goals on the same day. The odor of Risa’s diaper–which I now felt like I knew better than Risa herself–continued to permeate the office. The longer she marinated in her chair, the heavier the stench got. Until, finally, the odor just became normal. While I felt no urgency in my bowels at the moment, I suspected that if I did, I’d have joined her in stinking up the place. As it was, all I really needed to was to piss. And so I did, allowing myself to not get hung up on whether or not I should be resorting to my more infantile instincts or not. It was the most blissful a wet diaper had felt in some time, honestly. There was certainly something to be said about being in a place with other people, yet not having to feel afraid of exposure. “Alright,” Lyndie said, emerging from her office eventually. “Which one of you did this?” She waved her arms around her, as if to signal that she was talking about the air around us. “That’s all me,” Risa said, almost sounding like she was proud of what she had done. “Unless Clark added some smells of his own? I’m not sure if I’d be able to tell.” “N-no,” I said. “Not this time.” “Alright,” Lydie sighed, glancing towards Ms. Beaufort’s office–still dark. “Well, someone is going to have to take care of this. Come on. Let’s get you changed.” Risa almost looks hesitant to get up from her desk. I doubt it’s the diaper change she’s opposed to, it’s leaving her work behind. I watch them march back across the room and into Lyndie’s office where the door is shut and the blinds are drawn. Privacy is important, of course–though I’m a little disappointed I don’t get to see that show. And, too, maybe I’ll be thankful for the option of blinds when it’s my turn to get a diaper change. Speaking of which, I would probably need one soon. That wetting was on the heavier side, and the padding between my legs was already feeling rather swampy. If I hadn’t already met the capacity of the diaper, it was only a matter of time before I did. I shifted forward and back on my plump padding–I had gotten very good at stimulating myself like this. Maybe, I thought, I’d ask Lyndie for some help with my diaper when she was done with Risa. Or, maybe I’d just stay like this until someone–likely Mommy herself–checked on me later. I let out a little moan as I squirmed in my chair. It was nice to be back at work again.

Indeed. Me too. And as for wearing terry nappies at night, I always do, unless we're away on holiday or staying somewhere else that means no washing machine. We've just come home after a week away, with me in disposables. It was a big relief to pin myself into a dry terry nappy last night. I didn't have any night time leaks while we were away, and in face haven't had any for a long time. I suspect that may be in part due to using booster pads at all times, whether in cloth or disposables. A Betterdry and a booster kept the bed dry while we were away, but I always worry a bit when I overnight in a disposable. I suspect the booster cups my leakage area better than without, so reduces the risk of wee tracking along my skin to the outside world. Anyway, I don't exercise any control over my wetting these days. When my body says 'go' it just happens, on my side or not. I did have a leak while we were away, but only because I maxed out an Overnight one evening. I was on a wooden chair, so no harm done. And alcohol was involved - it was my birthday after all (2 again, if anyone wondered). Today I'm in a cloth nappy with 3 cloth boosters to celebrate being back in cloth. I should be OK till Mummy sends me to bed this evening.

I think a lot of us came this route I also remember doing this at around the age of 13/14 when the urge of wanting to be in diapers hit me like a raging bull.I used to make out of black garbage bags cut to the shape of a disposable diaper and line them with toilet paper and paper towels or old towels.Once fitted I would put a other plastic bag over them as plastic pants to prevent leaks.Got caught by my mother once nothing was said or done about it I think she thought it was just a part of growing up..

It was actually @superabsorbantpolymer who made that quote but it might as well have been me since as a child, I did exactly the same thing. Another data point in favour of your hypothesis. As a kid, I'd rescued a couple of ancient towels from the route to the rag bag, appropriated some of the abundant supplies of nappy pins that were scattered around the house (all my siblings were younger and in contrast to myself, were bedwetters until at least 6 or 7 years of age) and for plastic pants, there were shopping bags. Back in the late 1970s and into the early 1980s, the rise of supermarkets (and the associated downfall of the corner grocery store) had seen paper bags replaced with good old fossil-fuel-derived, single-use plastic bags. We weren't talking the ultra-thin Chinese plastic bags that would split if you looked at them too long either. These were old school, thick, crinkly white plastic and when you were done with them, you could stuff them down a sea turtle's neck or choke a seagull. It seemed discarded plastic bags always went to the beach. Such were the environmental mores of the day. By making holes in the two bottom corners of the bag that were smaller than the diameter of one's thighs, the bag could be hauled up over one's legs like plastic pants. Each of these corner holes could have their edges folded over themselves creating quite a strong, elastic-like seal albeit at the small price of tourniquet-type blood starvation to one's lower limbs. The body of the bag would form the plastic pant and the open top would serve as the waist opening which could be folded back down into the towel-nappy for a more dubious, but still serviceable seal. Thusly attired, one could pee freely whilst maintaining dry outerwear and looking like awful lot like a toddler. Presumably great minds think alike 🤣

Something that's really nice about you being "out of the closet" is you can ask your wife/family if your diaper is visible. Do you avail of that often or it is usually unsolicited feedback? One thing I struggle with is buying clothes, in general, and especially trying to look good and be diapered. Have you gone clothes shopping with them since returning to diapers? I don't know your family but generally ladies tend to enjoy and be better at shopping than us. It could be a fun activity, "diaper proof clothes shopping". Seeing as your wife is tacitly engaging in your diapers more lately but has expressed pro-discretion views she'd probably have useful input 😂 Also interesting theory about people with our interests being urologist. I'm not a urologist, although I have spent a lot of time reading urology papers haha. But don't think I'd enjoy it as a job when you're dealing with actual people and their problems day in and day out.

Surgery went fine. She’s still sleeping. Doc says probably tomorrow for discharge

Hello everyone! I am excited to share my drawings with you all. You can also follow me on X/Twitter by clicking HERE. I have created my first little original character (OC) named Candy. She is an alternative girl who later discovers that she also likes being little and age regresses. Although I may change her appearance later, I am still not very fond of the heterochromia in her eyes. Candy is the protagonist of the video game I am planning to make. As she progresses in her acceptance that she's a little girl, she will evolve from different clothing styles. I welcome your opinions, but please make sure to always be respectful. I would love to hear what you think of Candy and how I can improve her so that the people who play my video game can relate to her even more!

Chapter 95: Make it Worth It I WOKE UP to Grandma gently patting my back, “Carly, time to get up?” “Huh?” I asked, even as I realized where and who I was. ‘Why’s she calling me Carly, though?’ I wondered for a second. I rolled over, even as she moved the covers off of me and scooped me up to carry me to the changing table. The sleeper was removed, and I blushed as I realized I was wearing a very-soaked diaper. “What?!?” I said aloud. “I’m worried about this,” she told me. “We don’t have time to figure it out now, but as soon as we get you back from school today, I will do a scan. You seem to be rapidly losing your potty training?” I felt my veins chill but nodded, “I don’t know what’s going on? It seems to have steadily gotten worse through yesterday?” “Since that’s the case, you’re wearing a diaper today.” I felt like there was a metal door that just clanged shut, locking me off from the adult world then. My stomach fell as I realized whatever was causing this had certainly gotten bad enough that if reported, I’d be back in diapers in the nest no matter what. Sensing my unease, Grandma squeezed me in a hug, “It’s okay, no one will think anything bad of you today!” I shook my head, “I just hope it’s only today…” I looked at the clock and realized how early it was, “Do I have time to go for a swim?” She smiled, “I woke you up an hour before I planned to wake Beth. It’s not time for a long one, but you can get a short one. We need to put your hair in a cap, though.” I was grateful for a chance to get some laps in and wore the swimsuit Aunt Bella had made for me the weekend of Meggy’s birthday party. It fit me well, even with the swim diaper I wore, and I was pounding through laps faster than I had for a week. ‘Probably the adrenaline from my nerves,’ I thought. After a quick shower, I was soon dressed in another uniform. Beth teased me on the way inside the Matisse Center as we arrived for our final scenes of the film that I probably should be wearing the skirt option instead. I discovered most of the crew was missing, but Sebastian and Charlotte were having a meeting by a projected HoloScreen. “Hey, you two!” Charlotte said with a smile. “How are my favorite costars today?” I blushed, and Beth said, “Umm… that sounds weird. But good!” Charlotte laughed, “I’m actually kind of being serious. I like working with you two.” I smiled, “You’re great to work with, too,” I told her genuinely. “Did you guys get those other scenes wrapped last night?” “We did,” Sebastian said, “though I swear it took twice as long without you two in them.” “Huh?” Beth reacted. “You three,” he said, motioning to include Charlotte, “have great screen chemistry. It works well when you are involved with others too, but without you, it wasn’t as easy?” Charlotte nodded, “You two really are good at this.” “So, what’s up first this morning?” I asked. “Continuing where we finished yesterday. We’ll start with the scene at Grandma’s house before we go to the office.” “Wait, who’s playing ‘Grandma’ now?” Beth asked. “Madelyn doesn’t have a screen appearance in our original plan, just a computer voice, so we’ll use her. You’ll need to alter her computer voice when you do the edit. Maybe just some modulation?” I nodded, “That should be easy. I’m just glad I don’t have to see Kelly today!” Everyone laughed at that, and we moved on to getting to wardrobe. Charlotte came to help Beth and me get into our outfits, and I blushed when I realized the diaper was wet again. “Gary, we’re going to need you,” Charlotte said when she realized it. “What’s wrong?” “Well, first, Carly is suddenly having accidents?” She looked at me, “You’ve never seemed to have them?” “I haven’t,” I said. “So something has to be wrong with the nanites?” Charlotte suggested. “Might be…” He said thoughtfully. “Hopefully, it’ll correct when we reverse them? You should be able to be done filming by lunch or just after, right?” “Hopefully?” She agreed. “Let’s not worry about it then yet.” “How do we deal with the PooPloder placement if she’s wetting?” “Oh, that’s not a big deal, I’ve got six of the control panty things, so if she gets one wet, we’ll just change it when we change her diaper?” “Maybe we should use a regular diaper only until we do the office scene?” He suggested. Charlotte shook her head, “Let’s take care of shooting that one first, then we’ll come back to the Grandma’s house scene?” “Fair enough, I’ll let Seb know,” Gary said, taking off. “Sorry about this, Connor,” she told me. “We never intended you to have problems.” I shrugged, “Nothing we can do about it now?” “Let’s get you into the PooPloder version and get the accident out of the way; then, we don’t have to worry about anything more than just a diaper until we film the last scenes.” I nodded. Twenty minutes later, we were filming Sarah swiping into the office building while holding me. As we passed the bathroom, I asked, “Please?” I looked up at Charlotte, and she stared down at me. She sighed, “You promise to fix things?” “I’ll try!” I said. Before our conversation continued, though, Sophia came further down the hallway. “Well, look who the cat dragged in!” She smiled down at me and held her hands out. “Can your favorite auntie have a cuddle?” “Auntie?” I asked. “Of course, Brian, I’m your Mommy’s best friend! So that makes me your auntie!” Charlotte squeezed me reassuringly and said, “Hailey, we really don’t have much time for this?” “Please?” Sophia practically begged like a little girl to hold a doll. She handed me over and said, “Okay, fine, but you can’t cuddle her long! We need to get some work done!” With that, I began to endure a bounce up and down on her side before she placed me more in a hold like you would with an infant. As she did so, she stared at my stomach for a second before gently pushing on it. I activated the PooPloder, even as I grunted and groaned. A moment later, Sophia turned me around and held my diapered butt to her nose. “Uh-oh, someone was holding in a big present for her Mommy! That’s not good for your whittle belly!” I was handed back to Charlotte with a smile from her. I clung to her as Sophia said, “I’m just the auntie, so Mommy can have you back!” “Gee... thanks for the support,” Charlotte said. At that moment, I maintained a look of shock and forced some tears to roll down my face. It wasn’t hard with how disgusting the fake poop felt! After a couple of bounces and a hug, she said, “Come on, let’s go change your stinky butt, then we’ll go to Mommy’s office. Have a good weekend, Hailey!” Sophia waved at me and said with a mommy’s baby voice, “Bye-bye, baby girl!” As soon as Charlotte entered the bathroom door, I heard, “Cut!” “How was that?” Charlotte asked Will. “Great! Works so much better when she’s involved in the scenes.” “Do we need to do it again?” Sebastian asked. “I don’t think so. Everything looked and sounded good from what I could tell,” Will said. “In that case, let’s keep going; I’m worried about the effects Connor is dealing with here.” The stage was reset to allow filming of the changing table in the women’s restroom. “Okay, places!” was heard a few minutes later, and we began the scene. Charlotte sighed as she gently placed me on a changing pad she’d dug out from the diaper bag. “I’m sorry about that, Brianna, I really was going to let you try the potty?” I sniffled. The disgusting PooPloder stuff felt horrible and was a great tool to help me bring out that helpless emotion the scene called for! “Just change me, please? This is so disgusting…” I scrunched my face up as she placed the strap across my chest. “Just a moment, sweetie,” she said as she dug into the diaper bag. A second later, an intrusive silicone nipple was being forced through my lips, and I began sucking on it. Charlotte exposed my diaper and then lifted my legs for just a second. I knew they were looking for a view of the browning of the PooPloder on the back of the diaper, and then my legs were pushed down again, and she pulled open the tapes. As she wiped the mess off my bottom, she said, “Oh, Brianna, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t done yet?” Charlotte improvised. “Huh?” “You’re still going pee-pee, sweetie,” she smiled at me. “That’s okay, I have another diapee.” It was only as she was pulling the initial clean diaper away that I realized she had improvised because I was again peeing myself uncontrollably! Finally, with the second clean diaper, my clothing was straightened, and I was carried out of the restroom. “Cut!” Sebastian called. “What happened?” He asked. “We were having a little accident,” Charlotte smiled, but I could tell she was worried. “Tell me that worked? I want her back to her normal self as soon as possible. There is clearly something wrong here?” “She’s a Little; don’t they just usually have accidents? Every Little on campus is back in diapers, right?” Sophia asked. “Not saying that to be rude,” she tried to backtrack. “Usually only when someone has been doing something to them,” Beth said. “Yeah, let’s keep going,” Sebastian said. “I think the scene may even have been a bit of a bonus. Go get her out of that control panty since that’s got to be soaked now, and we’ll get the rest of this office scene wrapped up, too.” Charlotte didn’t even bother putting me down through all of that, just carrying me into wardrobe and rapidly getting me back set. “Connor, I am really sorry about this. I feel responsible?” She said with concern in her eyes as we walked back. “We’ll figure it out,” I told her. “Worst case scenario…? Well, I guess I’ll just end up in diapers like all of the other Littles this semester.” She gave me a concerned squeeze again but got us back to work as quickly as possible! BETH WAS WORRIED about Carly as they decided to keep on filming. ‘She may be completely incontinent now,’ she admitted as she watched the pair of Charlotte and Carly filming in her office. It was interesting watching as they did a montage of shots of her working on finding the proof and then showing it to the audience and Charlotte. An extra scene of the diaper bag coming back out had to be used before they left the office, though, since Carly had again used the diaper. As they filmed, each take showed it a little droopier. “Are you sure we shouldn’t just change her back now?” Charlotte asked Gary quietly to the side while they were getting set for the scene outside the building. “I don’t know it’ll make any difference,” he said. “This is one of the potential side effects listed on the waiver Connor signed. We’re almost done; if we stop now, we won’t be able to get all of the scenes completed.” Charlotte sighed, and Beth did the same from where she was eavesdropping. She had the added knowledge that being Carly was Connor’s lifelong dream. Because of that, she wasn’t pushing harder than Charlotte to get this stuff wrapped up. ‘It’s going to suck for Carly to go back,’ Beth thought. ‘At least so far, it’s just been wetting accidents; based on the PooPloders, I have to imagine that the other kind would be way worse on her.’ Beth watched as Owen was getting set by his car to attempt to come in as they came out. “Action!” Sebastian called, and Beth set aside her worries to watch the scene unfold. Charlotte carried Carly out the door, which closed securely behind her. Moving down some steps, Owen came up to them. “Hi, Sarah! What are you doing here so late?” “Oh, I left something on my desk that I need. We were just coming from the doctors, so I thought I would swing by on my way to pick up my other daughter from her grandmother’s.” Owen moved closer and smiled at the apparent baby girl, “And who’s this cutie?” Beth watched as he got a little closer, and one of the cameras had a great angle on his facial expressions. His eyes opened brightly, and a vicious smirk crossed his face as he began laughing! “So this is where Brian went on his vacation?!?” He laughed some more, even as another closeup camera showed Charlotte looking ready to kill him. “Being a baby girl definitely suits you, Brian!” Charlotte looked to control herself as she replied, “Yes, it does, doesn’t it.” She smiled at Carly and squeezed her reassuringly before turning towards him, “What are you doing here tonight?” Rob did an excellent job of looking a little guilty, but not so much that it was over the top. “Oh…? I just wanted to see if there were any other places we might have a backup? I can’t believe that we don’t have a single one?” “Oh, I appreciate your caring, but please, just go home.” “But...” Owen tried to speak, but Charlotte interrupted with a queen bitch voice that was calm but meant business. “Look, I don’t think it was you, but I’m suspicious someone has been up to things in the systems internally. I’ve locked up the building for the weekend, and no one else will go in until Monday.” The camera got a good view of the despair on Owen’s face, as if he had a ruined plan. “Rob, just go home and get some rest. We will need you fresh on Monday to help us pick up the pieces since Brian is no longer available for this kind of work.” Charlotte squeezed me then for effect, adding, “She’s got a much more important job now!” “Uhh... Okay, I guess you’re right.” Charlotte buckled Carly into the seat as the car with Owen practically peeled out of the parking lot. “Cut!” Sebastian called. “How was that?” Carly asked. “It was okay; if we weren’t in a hurry to figure out what was going on with you, though, I’d say let’s do it again,” Will said. “Then let’s do it again,” Carly said, much to Beth’s unease. “But…” Charlotte started to say. “If there is permanent damage, it’s probably already done,” Carly told her. “If my continence is the price for us getting a good product, then let’s at least make it good enough to be worth the price?” “You heard the girl! Reset! What did you think was wrong with the last take, Will?” Charlotte asked. He listed about ten different things, and so they went back and reshot it. Still not happy with that take; they did it a third time. As Rob laughed about his former coworker’s fate this time, a new ‘oopsie’ took place. Beth watched as Charlotte squeezed Carly, and it was clear that the squeeze sent something else out of him. To their credit, they finished up with Owen’s part without missing a beat. Well, actually, there had been an addition from Charlotte, “Let’s go get that poopy butt changed again!” Instead of going to the car seat, an implied diaper change occurred in the SUV’s back before ‘Cut’ was heard. “Are you okay?” Charlotte asked, finally breaking character. Beth walked over and found Carly shaking. “I didn’t even hardly feel it,” she said to Charlotte. “By the time I did, it was already halfway out.” “If it makes you feel any better, Carly, I think it made the scene more believable?” Sebastian said soothingly. “It doesn’t,” she told him. “Are you cleaned up enough to continue?” he asked. Carly nodded, “She did a good job changing my diaper again. Good thing we had that control panty gone, though?” Charlotte made a face, “Yeah, that would have made an even worse mess.” “Well, you said you wanted to keep going. You good?” Sebastian asked. “Will, is that take good?” “I think it’ll work well,” he said. “Let’s finish the last part of this and keep moving,” Carly said. “You heard her, let’s go,” Charlotte said. Beth watched as they reset to film inside the car as Carly was placed in the car seat. “You did disable his card access, right?” Charlotte asked as she pushed Carly’s right arm through the harness strap. Carly nodded, “Of course! Only yours works through Monday, just like you said. I’ve also locked out anyone from using any sort of remote protocol into our servers, so he can’t try to hack the building either.” Charlotte pressed her finger against Carly’s nose, “Good girl! Now, let’s get something to eat! I think you’ve earned an extra special treat tonight!” “What about Rob?” Carly asked. “Not to worry, I’ll take care of him on Monday.” After filming Charlotte closing the back door and getting in, the cameras watched as they took off down the projected road. “Cut!” +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Did you enjoy this? Please press the Like button for this post and leave a comment! This week, I won't be able to post a mid-week bonus due to work obligations. I should be able to post again Friday morning though unless something goes weird. (If I don't, it'll be Friday afternoon). The next week I'll promise you three though! Once again, if you do enjoy this tale, please consider purchasing one of my others from Amazon. All of my other works are completed and available under Sofia Hammerstein! http://amazon.com/author/babysofia

I recently gave a panel at capcon about AB/DL content creation and monetization, with Pudding (Of Sophie & Pudding) as my co-presenter! As part of this, I did a bunch of research and data gathering, looking into what works, what doesn't, and how to make money with ABDL writing and art. Here's what I learned! (I intended to release this as more of an essay, but I'm sick and impatient so imma do it like this instead.) #1: Whether we're talking Writing or Art, I found two factors that correlated strongly with high levels of income. Everything else had very weak or no correlation. Factor #1: How often are you posting content? Creators who posted a couple times a week consistently saw far more success. Those who posted 3-4 times a month made a modest side income. Those who posted monthly or less were not making significant amounts of money. Factor #2: How many places do you post to? Creators who consistently posted to many sites had reliably more income than those who posted to only a few sites. 80% of creators with an income over 1000$/month posted to 6+ platforms. The vast, vast majority of ABDL creators who monetize their work don't make enough money from that single income source to meet their living expenses. I don't think anyone should try and monetize their art with the expectation of doing it full time. However... It's very reasonable (not guaranteed, but reasonable) to build a income stream of a few hundred dollars a month, if you're able to post consistently. And while that won't let you quit your job, it could be enough to cover bills or help save up for big expenses, which is great! As for the other big thing I learned: comissions. Writers, y'all *need to hecking charge more*. I found *zero correlation whatsoever* between pricing for fiction c0mms and difficulty in finding clients to write for. (I found similar results for visual artists.) The vast majority of writers who responded to the survey are undercharging for commissions. Over half charged less than 2/c word, often stating a belief that higher prices would lead to difficulties finding customers. However, this assumption wasn't help up by the data. While there is probably a price point that makes it impossible to find customers, I was unable to find one in the data. The highest prices listed, 10c/word, were mine - and I have not had trouble finding clients. For creators struggling to find clients, it's not about prices. It's 100% about visibility and clarity. Creators who post often and have clear, precise commission terms that are easy to find and understand were able to get commissions easily. Creators who post in unclear or sparse ways have trouble finding commission clients. That's it. I even have a case study to prove it, featuring colleague and friend, Clairanette! Her price had previously been 1/c word, or .6c/word on projects over 5,000 words. Despite these rock-bottom prices, she was unable to find new clients or get many people to take her commissions... and when she did get commissions, she made no money off them. She’d been had a loyal following, and I can vouch for the fact that writing quality was not the issue. Her rate of writing averages 1000 words/day - in other words, she was charging 10$ for a day of her effort. She didn’t have a price sheet, and when doing commissions, would just announce them on her Discord with simple messages like, “I’m taking commissions”. Prices were not given per word, but instead were ‘Per story’. (IE, “20$ for a custom story.”) She was thinking of increasing to 2c/word, but worried that it would mean she wouldn’t get any clients. After we talked, however, I convinced her to try a few things. She increased her prices to 7.5c per word, with a discount of 6c/word for paid subscribers, and, instead of just announcing on Discord and asking people to message her for further info, created a detailed commission guideline and announced it on all of her socials as well as posting an announcement in the description of her next story post, everywhere she posted. Within a day, she had a commission lined up. She quickly had her queue full and was unable to take more clients until she got some of them finished. (As an aside: Claira is super cool and I'm still raising money to help her move! If you'd be willing to donate just a few bucks, as a thank you for helping this presentation, I'd appreciate it! Also her comms are open! Go to @submitzvah and hire her!) If you want an example of what a commission form can look like, here's mine. You are 100% invited to shamelessly copy every element of it if you want to! https://forms.gle/RoLnyfweQp4uCjnp6 That's pretty much it! I do have some other loose data you might find useful, though, mainly factors that I checked against income. So, to close this out, here's a brief list of factors that I ruled out: How long you've been creating content: Creators who'd been making content for less than six months had trouble monetizing, but otherwise there was no correlation How long you've been monetized: Very little correlation to income Ratio of exclusive, early access, and public content: This one surprised me! Creators who had *no* early access or exclusive content had far smaller incomes. (Expected.) Creators with just had early access content hit the same average income as creators with exclusive content. Giving paid subscribers a discount or bonus towards commissions was partially correlated with more income, though it was a weaker correlation than I expected. I've gone through the data and scrubbed out identifying details. If someone who's better at data analysis wants to go through this and check my work, feel free! https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1hipw776DXl4XtZYyfbmlW2QAulT2qVgfDbACXdlKlS4/edit#gid=855171745 And, finally, I want to thank a bunch of people who filled out the survey! paddedlittleparadise, Red, Personalias, omopurrr, Pizzabagel, Artsy, Padawanacookie, Little Theodora, JuiceBox, FlashyFlesh, CrissieBaby & CodiBaby, Daymare, Elfy, HofBondage, PinkTheDinosaur, BabySofia, Newguy20, BigRed, horsemotif, Wannatripbaby, Pelo Dee, BabyIzzy, tammie2, dlboy781 Thank you all!

What are reasons for a spanking are punishment when in ABDL play?

Hello I am new to the group. I am a writer and have been writing diaper stories since back in 1995 I have gone by different names but was well know in the 90s as TD500

There you go! My fault, I forgot!

Good luck to you! Big transitions mean big emotions, so be sure to give yourself the space to feel all of them and plenty of time to heal!

Hiii! Glad to hear! High hopes for a comfortable and full recovery. 🧜‍♂️

Hiii! Welcome! 🧜‍♂️

HAPPY BLOODY BIRTHDAY!!!! You've done us all proud by over-indulging and leaking as a consequence. That's what being in the "Terrible Twos" looks like and I salute you! 🤣

North America only gets the cloth-backed ones, UK gets the plastic-backed ones. I've seen the plastic ones listed on some sites but they never have stock. I've been asking around for where I might be able to purchase the plastic ones and so far the only answer I've gotten is eBay.

The intermittent but more or less total loss of insight into my nocturnal pee habits is becoming sufficiently common in my world to have me thinking it is a new developmental phase emerging. In my case, I don’t know how many nights were “wet” for me over the previous 7 days. I suspect at least 3 but it could well be more. To be perfectly honest with myself, it might have been ALL of them. I just don’t know really. It's a little harder for me to tell because I'm almost always slightly wet when I fall asleep. I’ve got no doubt that alcohol potentiates my chance of bedwetting but I’m also starting to notice that another great agent provocateur is “not thinking about wetting the bed”, or, to flip that coin, "thinking a lot about something else". Is there a chance that your business travel and active social life provided this kind of distraction?

I also tried the plastic bag trick when I was a kid. As well as those hard when dry super absorbent swim towels, stolen period liners, paper towels, pillows and just about anything else I could get my hands on. The need to have a diaper firmly cradling my bottom is such a deeply ingrained and rewarding sensation for me. I also have a memory of playing with my childhood friend at around aged 6, and convincing him that we should make diapers out of construction paper "for poor babies who don't have any" (very mischievous kid logic). Iirc I made a brown one and put it on over my clothes. My mom interrupted at some point and I knew it was naughty so we moved on. I definitely made paper diapers after that, although they're obviously useless. Throughout my childhood I would stuff paper towels in my underwear, at home in school etc.

Chapter 9 After the acute humiliation of his first few hours at the school had faded, Daniel expected that the rest of his day would pass by with reasonable ease, and a minimum of giggles at his expense. Only one thing stood out, and that was a humiliation of a more private sort–changing his own diaper. That, at least, he could do in the privacy of his own room, but privacy didn’t totally bury the shame. Even alone, he still had two eyes judging him the whole time–his own. The whole thing just proved to be profoundly, acutely awkward. He didn’t know if there was a shower he could use, but even if there was, he didn’t know if it’d be private, or what access would be like. For the moment, he had to deal with this on his own with the supplies provided. Baby wipes and a pail did not feel up to the task, not after how thoroughly Rachel had forced him to fill his diaper, and certainly not after he’d been sitting in it for a couple hours. Even then, working through the awkward, slow process of wiping himself clean was not what hit Daniel the hardest. Going through dozens of wipes, trying to clean away muck that seemed to perpetually return, working at an angle that made it difficult to see? That was frustrating and humiliating, but the worst part was the implication. If he’d been half the mage Rachel was, he could do this with magic. If he’d been a warlock, he could have done this with magic. But, because he was no warlock, he had to spend twenty minutes cleaning up his poopy diaper. At least he didn’t have any other classes for the day–it was expected that they’d use this first day to get familiar with the campus, make friends, unpack, and generally get settled. He could have sought out his new coven members, tried to socialize, but Daniel had other goals. He wanted to figure out what he’d overheard. Plot, ploy, or whatever the hell–someone in the school wanted to accomplish some nefarious, secret end. Daniel’s first impulse was to pass the buck, but he’d long since come up with reasons not to. Reason the First: He didn’t know who was involved. He’d heard two voices, so even if his hunch about the Voxavin coach participating was correct, there was no certainty about who the other might be. If Penelope Madrigal was involved, and he went to her and explained everything he knew, she’d be perfectly situated to retaliate and stop him from sharing what he’d found out. Reason the Second: He lacked proof of any kind, and Madrigal hated him. She’d all but told the student body to bully Daniel, after all. His story would probably just sound like a weak excuse for being out of bounds, and lead to further reprisal, humiliation, and punishment. Reason the Third: If Daniel solved everything on his own, discovered the culprit, and unveiled the conspiracy all in one fell swoop, it’d look great on an application. He told himself that the first two reasons were the important motivators, and would never admit the third motive to anyone else, but he couldn’t deny it held a bit of allure. ‘I’m the warlock who saved Alphabeta’ would, in truth, be the best possible legacy of his time here. He wouldn’t just get an education, he’d get a positive reputation, saving the school that actively wanted him to fail. So, rather than seeking out the dean, or even Jen, he instead traced his steps right back to where it’d all started. He wasn’t stupid about it. He checked around corners and generally obeyed all the rules of stealth he’d learned from movies, spreading out his arms, crouching low, moving silently and listening for anyone who might be around. The prefects’ dormitories were only sparsely populated, and just like last time, the hallway itself was unlit and abandoned, barely remarkable except as an ill-used wing of the campus. Daniel had no issue slipping down it, and this time he made sure to check for closets and hiding spaces as he went, in case he encountered any other teachers or staff and had to evade future punishments. Daniel had to resist the temptation to hum the Mission Impossible theme as he went, though it ultimately didn’t matter. On his way to the room where he’d overheard the sinister conversation, he encountered not a single soul. Or…well, that wasn’t exactly true. He located the same room, identifying it by the faded numbers on the door. When he reached for the handle, though, he felt a slight chill and pulled his hand back. (Is this stupid? What if it’s warded, or trapped? I don’t know who I’m dealing with.) Even if his control was weak, he was a sort-of warlock, he had magic at his disposal. Precision might be beyond him, but he could identify magical power if he tried. Crouched in the hall, Daniel closed his eyes, extending his senses. Nothing stuck out to him right away. No big, obvious screw-you spells were woven into the door to blow up anyone who tried to open it, not even the sensation of magical static. The people behind the door had mentioned the hall being a dead zone, and what he could feel lined up with that. Still, that didn’t rule out subtler traps or wards. Tightening his face, Daniel searched a little harder. He could feel something. A whisper of power, something in motion, something he couldn’t identify. Maybe a spell, maybe the lingering results of an enchantment, maybe a mistake. Focusing a little harder, Daniel concentrated his senses, trying to follow every spark of magic, grunting slightly– “Are you pooping yourself?” The voice came from nowhere, and Daniel’s eyes shot open in alarm, stumbling back. He looked around, but nobody had snuck up on him–nobody he could see, anyways. “Who’s there?” he yelped. “Don’t let me interrupt you, sunshine.” The voice tittered. It was feminine–not a surprise–but the voice didn’t seem to come from anywhere. “If you gotta go, you gotta go.” “I–” Daniel started. “I wasn’t pooping myself, I was just crouching down.” “Really? Crouched down, face all screwed up, and let’s not even start on these.” With the last word, a puff of wind seemed to come from nowhere, flapping Daniel’s skirt up so that his diaper was flashed to the empty hall. Daniel felt an intense chill around the seat of his diaper, and hastily pushed the skirt down. “I don’t need these!” he snapped, spinning in the hall. “And–stop that! Where are you?” “You’re wearing diapers for fun? Are you just some kind of dork, or has fashion taken a really weird turn lately?” the voice asked. Daniel felt the coldness move between his legs around to the front. He crossed his hands over his crotch self consciously just as the voice said, “When did they start letting weird diaper dork boys into the school?” “Shut–hey!” Daniel shot again, stepping back. “Are you invisible? Where are you?” “I’m over here,” she replied. Daniel blinked, and she added, “No, a little to the left–a little more–there.” Daniel was staring at a bit of wall in a blank hallway. There definitely wasn’t anything to see, and reaching out, all he felt was a slight chill. “Yup, found me,” the voice said. “Though–move your hand, casanova, or we’re going to have a conversation about hypocrisy here in a second. “I don’t get it,” Daniel said, stepping back. “Can you just tell me what’s going on? Who are you?” He felt a chill breeze pass over him again, like someone’d just walked over his grave, and the voice whispered right in his ear. “I’ll give you a hint: Boo!” His eyes widened. “You’re–” “An incorporeal, post-life entity,” the voice said, her intonation slipping into a teacherly affectation. “Left behind as the result of a traumatic death surrounded by extreme magical energies. Also known, in some circles, as a ghost.” “Oh, uh…” he swallowed, uncertain how to handle that revelation. “I see.” “No you don’t, dummy.” Daniel frowned. “I beg your pardon?” “I said ‘incorporeal’. No body means nothing to refract light,” she explained. “So you couldn’t ‘see’ that I’m a ghost.” “Okay, well… I’m sorry to hear that,” Daniel said, quickly adding, “And I can hear that.” She giggled. “It’s okay, I don’t remember dying. My mom always said I’d sleep through my own funeral–and she was pretty darn close, I slept through my death!” Daniel hesitated. “So when I feel a chill, was that me touching you?” “Closest thing to it–I can’t really touch stuff, but I can kind of…move energy around, just a little. It’s like if touching was homeopathic.” Daniel frowned. “So when I felt cold between my legs a moment ago…” “You’re just dodging explaining why you’re wearing a diaper,” the voice continued. “It’s this stupid thing with my prefect,” Daniel explained, rolling his eyes. “I managed to get into this school by working around the rules, so she’s getting back at me by making me wear diapers. And before you ask, yes, I’m ‘potty trained’ or whatever, I don’t actually need them.” “I wasn’t going to ask if you needed them,” she replied. Daniel frowned a little, surprised at her lack of curiosity. “Oh, well–I don’t.” With a coy giggle, the voice asked, “I was going to ask if you used them.” Turning pink, Daniel said, “Look–this doesn’t matter. I’m here because I overheard a weird conversation earlier and I wanted to try and figure out what happened.” Finally opening the door, he walked into the room where he’d overheard it all a few hours prior. “Were you here?” “Well, yes, I was definitely here,” the ghost said. “It’s not like I have anywhere to go. Do you know the first thing about ghosts?” “...not really,” Daniel admitted, giving the room a once over. It was mostly barren–a desk was pushed up against one wall, but the rest was given over to storage, dusty cardboard boxes stacked against each other. “Like, I’ve heard of ghosts, but…okay, to be honest, most ghosts I’ve read about were the ‘Late night TV Movie’ kind, not the real ones.” “Well, we can’t leave our haunts,” the ghost explained. “Some of us stick with our bodies, but I didn’t really get that option, so I’m stuck here, where I died. And, uh, you may have noticed it’s a featureless, boring storage area.” “So you’re stuck here, and the only company you get is when the janitor comes through,” Daniel surmised. “That’s got to be lonely.” “Oh, no, I’ve got a friend. Do you know Jordan?” She asked. “I’m new here, it’s literally my first day,” Daniel said. “I don’t know her.” “She comes around to spend time with me,” She explained. “Sometimes I’ll help her study, or we’ll just play games, or talk. She’s sweet. What were you asking about, though?” “Oh, well, this should be easy. Can you tell me what happened here a few hours ago?” Turning to face where he thought she was, Daniel asked, “There would have been two people talking–one of them was a middle aged woman, not a teacher though. “Eh…” Pausing, she admitted, “I have no idea who you’re talking about.” Daniel frowned. “If you were here–” “I don’t remember,” the girl said. “I’m a ghost. Time doesn’t pass for me like it does for normal folks.” “You don’t remember things?” he asked. “I don’t remember when things happened. Once you walk out of here, I won’t know if this conversation happened yesterday or a year ago–though the boy in a diaper will probably be memorable enough to stick. There’s a reason we ghosts tend to live in the past–I remember stuff from my life the normal way, everything after that’s a jumble.” Daniel thought about that. “If I describe the situation, could you tell me if you’ve seen something like it before?” “I guess that’d work.” She sighed. “Sure, it’ll kill some time I guess.” Pausing, Daniel asked, “Wait, you mentioned your friend Jordan. How do you know if she still even goes here?” The girl didn’t respond for a long moment. “I…I don’t, admittedly, but I think she still does. She said she’d let me know when she graduated, and she’d still come back to visit when she could.” “When’s the last time–” Daniel started, before realizing the issue with his question. “You can’t remember the last time she visited, right.” “Not really,” the ghost confirmed. “But I can piece together the order, sort of, like–I know she broke up with her girlfriend at some point, so any time she comes here with Penny it has to be before that happened–and she started wearing her team scarf after she got into the Mothwicks, so those memories happened later, but…” Daniel heard a sniffle. He rubbed at the back of his neck uncomfortably. For all he knew, Jordan hadn’t been around here in years. “When did you die?” “It would have been…I don’t know how long,” She said. “But I was twenty two, the year was nineteen seventy one.” (It’s been almost thirty years,) Daniel thought. (Jeez. That has to be lonely.) “So…” “I know, this is boring to you,” she said. “Go ahead, tell me about the thing.” “So there were two people, I think one of them might have been a coach named Catherine Glinse, but I didn’t get a look at her,” Daniel explained. “The other one didn’t have a teacher’s uniform on, just plain professional clothes. She’s faculty or something, but I don’t know what she does, though she did have blond hair. They were arguing, and one of them had a voice that sounded all warbly and demonic.” “I don’t…I’m not sure. That’s not ringing any bells, but teachers are in and out here a lot. Like, a lot a lot. The warbly demon voice should stand out, but, well, I’ve got a lot of memories.” Daniel rubbed at his chin, trying to think. “The one who was maybe a teacher was yelling about explanations. Does that help?” “Not really…sorry. Let me think about it some, though, it might come to me,” she offered. Nodding, Daniel looked around and said, “That’s fine. Will you be able to remember it when it does come to you?” “Yeah, it’s kind of a repetition thing. Like, you’ve got old memories that are still pretty clear, because you think about them a lot, right? It’s like that. I can sort of…just keep it in mind, if that makes sense.” “Thanks,” Daniel said, walking back towards the door. “I shouldn’t stick around too much longer, I’m not supposed to even be in this hallway and if someone catches me, I’ll be in real trouble.” “Oh.” The ghost fell quiet for a moment, disappointment more clear from the silence than it would’ve been with words. Quickly, Daniel promised, “I do, but I’ll be back, as soon as I can. Also…here, let’s see if this helps.” Clearing his throat, he spoke loudly and clearly. “This is my first time ever visiting you.” “I know,” the ghost said. “I’d remember the diaper boy, I don’t forget that stuff happened, I just forget when.” “Yeah, sure,” Daniel confirmed, trying to clarify what he meant. “But you’re going to see me more than once. So let me clarify, and it’ll help you remember the order.” “Oh–oh! That’s… really thoughtful,” she said, hesitating for a moment as another thought struck her. “What’s your name, diaper boy?” “Daniel,” he said. “Daniel Aster.” “Nice to meet you, Danny,” the girl replied. “I’m Ismella.” ... Ugh, I love Ismella, and also hate that I wrote her into a corner - literally - where she can't move in and out of places, making it super hard to use her in any group scenes. At least, I used to hate that, in the previous version. Now I've got plans to fix that. Financial support is always appreciated to help keep me fed and diapered while I write, but if you can't do that for whatever reason (no judgement!), a comment is also lovely to receive! -Penn https://reamstories.com/peculiarchangelingabdl https://subscribestar.adult/peculiarchangeling

I would wager a decent number. It is probably equivalent to the percentage of transgender individuals in our world. (About 1.4% of the population)

This has been a week of business travel, excess coffee consumption, beers or wine with dinner, difficulty falling asleep... and wet nights, intriguingly. I woke up with a wet bum three times this week, and I only have a recollection of one of the occurrences. I recall being woken up feeling like I needed to pee, with that "it's right at the tip" feeling that males of the species get when you're already partially letting it come down (and do let me know if people with anatomically female plumbing get that feeling too... I've never thought to ask). I am not sure of the exact anatomical mechanism of this - I really should study up on my urology so that I can talk knowledgeably about it, but I'm sure many of you could school me. I suspect that some of you are urologists. It would kind of make sense, that people into "this" would get called to that profession. But I digress. I think the internal sphincter, the one that is not under motor neuron control, had agreed to the release, but the other one, which I believe is the external sphincter, the one that my brain control directly, was holding out. So I rolled over onto my back, made sure "Mini-me" was pointed downward, and then drifted back to sleep. The other two times likely went the same way, except that I have no memory of it, any more than I have any memory of moving around in my sleep. I don't think that the executive suites were consulted, but I'm sure that I rolled onto my back to do it, because I didn't leak into the sheets, and all three times, the diapers were gratuitously wet. One was a Mega Barnyard, and two were BeDry nights, if memory serves. I can check my diaper can if I really want to confirm, I guess. So... coffee in the afternoon or evening leads to poor sleep (at least in me), but wine with dinner somewhat counteracts that, although not a lot of wine, because I always had to get up and do it all again the next day, and sometimes also had to drive home after dinner. Somehow, that's the formula for waking up wet. I'll have to attempt a regression analysis and see if I can corelate anything. Maybe it all comes down to wearing black socks - I was in black socks the whole time. I got a funny look from my wife once, when I came home in dress pants over a slim diaper - a Tranquility ATN - that I had been in for a few hours, and I went up to my bedroom to change, and I realized I had nowhere else to be, so I put on a Rearz Mega Barnyard but then just pulled the same pants back on, because I needed to get back to my desk and finish some notes before I forgot what I'd seen. I walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, wearing dress pants and a golf shirt (it's been decently warm for Canada in March), and that incongruously big, puffy diaper was bulging all over the place under the relatively thin, tan pant material. She raised her eyebrows and said "You wore that?!?", and I didn't immediately clue in to what she was referring to, thinking she meant that something was wrong with my shirt or something. "What? What's the problem?" I inquired, and then my daughter, who was at the sink said, "Your gyatt, dad - she means your gyatt." I have had teenaged daughters long enough to know that "gyatt" is slang for your butt, or at least, it's a word they say to express surprise or admiration for a large butt, so I realized that they were talking, at least tangentially, about my diaper. "Ah, no, I just got changed, I didn't wear this to the meeting."

I wouldn't go with AI generated images that's not art, if you're looking for a real artists I know a couple, just note me if you want to know.

Awwww so cute.

But then again, times have changed, and have you seen what's being taught in school and shown to kids these days like Drag Queen story hour? Teachers teaching kids LGBTQ lifestyle and even teachers showing off their kink to their kids. Here's an example. https://www.radar.gaysagainstgroomers.com/

Sarah's parents had a D/s relationship, and Sarah is very much her mother's daughter, but without her experience and hard earned wisdom. Sofia made every important decision for her family, but that doesn't mean that she was going to forbid hubby to go fishing. Did she start out with so pragmatic a view of the relationship, or did she start out as badly as Sarah and get better at it over time? Sarah's inflexibility (no, you can't go fishing!) is simply not practical, and Ian's acts of rebellion are all consciously designed to drive that point home. He's content to have Sarah make all of the big decisions, and he'll eat whatever she puts on the table at breakfast and dinner, but he will see to lunch himself, thank you very much. Have you noticed that Priscilla is also dominant? She is wife and mother, but wouldn't dream of telling Ian that he can't have a pastrami sandwich. And when Thursday morning turns into Thursday night, they are going to go out and get drunk together-- at her insistence! How ironic that Priscilla could be Sarah's role model, but only if she doesn't see Priscilla as a threat. Perhaps Sofia will figure it out, and steer her daughter into a safe harbor. Or perhaps not. Time will tell.

She lifted him up and settled him in Sawyer's lap, and she untied him and removed his gag. As soon as he could move again, he curled in close to her, and hugged her, causing more awws and laughter from the women. Sawyer rubbed his back. "Good baby. You have fun diaper girl?" "Yes mommy," he said. "Did you learn your lesson?" "Yes mommy." "Good baby. Now, I think its bedtime for you so mommy can have fun with her friends, ok?" "Yes mommy," he said. "Say goodnight diaper girl, and thank them for helping you learn your lesson." "Goodnight!" he said. "Thanks for helping me learn my lesson." "Goodnight diaper girl!" they all responded, except for Jordan, who still referred to him as "poopy pants." Sawyer attached his leash to him, and led him, crawling, into another room. There, she sat on a chair, and patted her knee. Still obedient, he got up and settled down. She giggled. "Jeeze, you really do stink there diaper girl," she said, and waved her hand in front of her nose. "I know mommy." She reached beside the chair and took out a bottle of clear fluid. He stared at it nervously. She noticed, and said. "It's water. You can relax now sweetie. We are done humiliating you for the day. You will need water after everything you went through." She put the teat in his mouth, and he began drinking, happy to see it really was water. "So, are you going to do anything like that again?" He shook his head. "Good boy. Now, you have a choice." "You might be tempted to try to rat us out or report us to someone. However, first of all, we will respond with the evidence you've been stalking us, and charge you. Since I can DEFINITLY afford a better lawyer then you, and we will win." He nodded. The thought of trying to prosecute them had come to his mind, but he figured something like this would happen. "Next, if you try anything, we have countless videos of you crawling in diapers, wearing dresses, and begging to be humiliated. That will find its way online, and we will make sure you end up looking bad in each video." "So, for now, I'm going to put you in perfect adorable baby girl pajamas, and send you to bed. Tomorrow, you will have a choice. Either, you can get up, shower, go home in your regular clothes, and we will forget this happened. Or..." He listened attentively while drinking his bottle. "Tomorrow, if you wake up, call me mommy, ask nicely, and promise to behave, we can have more fun. I will send you home in your stinky diaper. There, you will film yourself cutting up each pair of naughty big boy boxers in your shelf and replacing them with more diapers. Then, you will pledge to me. If you do that, I will pay to have your stuff moved in here, and you will live as my permanent pamepered submissive. You will obey me, do my chores, do anything to please me, and I will punish you at will. In return, I will keep you in diapers and skirts tease you constantly since you clearly love them, and I will reward you whenever I think you've been a good baby." "Ummm..." he said. "Don't answer now," She said, and kissed his forehead. "Go to bed, we have a nice comfy cage for you to sleep in, and you will respond in the morning. Ok?" "Ok. Mommy, can I get changed now, orrr..." She laughed. "No, you're sleeping in that." She pressed a hand against the front of his diaper and rubbed it into him. "You are still being punished. You are going to sleep in your poopy diaper, laying all night in it as you get a rash, and wake up smelling worse then ever. I want you to be reminded of tonight every time you sit down and feel the painful diaper rash and spanking we gave you, and remember you are the only grown man who still has to worry about having a diaper rash on public." She pressed harder. "Plus that way, if you do decide to go home in it, you'll will have to wonder if anyone can smell your dirty, disgusting diapers, and know what a tiny, pathetic baby you are, and you can... He gasped and started panting. She looked at him with wide eyes. "Well, that was surprising. I guess I kind of know what you'll decide."

Someone has to cut this young woman off, she cannot handle her milk. I think the doll is her wingman....

After church, the parents split up, with Dad taking the two older kids to the middle school and mom taking the two younger ones to the middle school. Each parent delivered changing supplies to the respective school nurse, who had been already briefed on the situation. KATIE: Katie made her way to class and sat down next to her friend, Alex. “You’ve got a smudge on your face,” Alex said. “Ashes. It’s Ash Wednesday. We’ve already been to church.” “Oh,” Alex said. “You gotta go around like that all day?” “That isn’t even the half of it,” Katie said rolling her eyes. “What?” Alex said. Katie was about to explain but thought better of it. “Never mind.” JOHNNY: Johnny entered his third-grade class. He looked around to see if anybody noticed his diaper, but nobody noticed. He sat down nervously, feeling the bulk around his middle. The teacher came over and whispered to him. “I understand what you’re going through. If you need to change, feel free to leave and go to the nurse anytime.” Class droned on, and by the time lunch came around, he was starting to relax. Nobody seemed to pay him any mind. A couple had made jokes about the ashes on his forehead, but nobody noticed the diaper. After lunch, he realized he had to pee. He tried to hold it, but it wasn't easy. Finally, the final bell rang. He stood to head for the bus and realized he couldn’t hold it. He stopped and flooded the diaper. He looked around to see if anybody noticed, but everybody else was headed for the exits and not paying attention to him. He felt the weight of the now-soaked diaper sagging on him. He’d change when he got home. DAD: James got to work and set about his morning routine. He kicked open the mail application on his computer, and started through his inbox, taking sips of coffee between messages. After getting through the incoming, he headed out to the coffee maker for another cup. After finishing that, he realized he needed to pee. Maybe all this coffee wasn’t a good idea. He went back to his office and tried to overcome thirty-five years of toilet training. Finally, he got it going. How much could this diaper take? He had stuck a spare and some wipes in his briefcase, but he had left that in his car. He decided he’d stick it out until lunch time. Then, he headed out to the local sub shop, ducking into the men’s room. He released one more time into the diaper and changed it. So far, so good. MOM: Jane returned from dropping the kids off and started doing things around the house. Soon, she felt pressure in her gut. Oh, my. What was she going to do? She could use the toilet, but that wouldn’t set a good example for the kids. Why had she agreed to all this? She could stand it no more. She bent over slightly and let it come out. A brief moment of relief was replaced with the sensation of the feces being confined against her skin by the diaper. Yuck. She gingerly walked to the bathroom. She lowered the soiled diaper down and grabbed a wipe. It came off covered in poop, but she still had a lot of mess on her. She gave up and started the shower.

Wearing them for the last 5 years has turned down the volume on that part of my psyche, but not completely euthanized it. I actually think that part of this 24/7 "mission" was to normalize this to the point where it was just a background pleasantness, like being outside on a nice day, not a huge thrill, but, it makes everything else you're doing a bit nicer, it puts a little spring in your step. I still get turned on by wearing a diaper sometimes but it's impossible to be turned on all the time. I had to squeeze between my wife and her desk in order to check a printer cartridge for her, and when I did that, she smacked my diapered butt - that turned me on a bit, not gonna lie.

TO CATCH A DIAPER THIEF (OR, AS THE LATE PAUL HARVEY WOULD SAY, "THE REST OF THE STORY" “What d'ya think, Tip?” Cindy had turned off the main road onto the residential street, which was lined with single family residences on their right, and a run of four multi-story apartment buildings on their left. There were still more apartments and detached garages inside the sprawling complex, everything centered on a large clubhouse with adjoining pool and tennis courts. The clubhouse, they knew from reading the listing in the Yellow Pages, even featured an indoor racket ball court. “This close to the airport? Looks like a stew zoo to me.” “I meant the street. There's not a single car parked on this entire block.” Cindy was driving slowly, looking up the driveways leading into the parking lots behind the buildings. If they spotted the beater that they had dubbed “the cannon mobile,” it was mission aborted. “Pull into the next driveway, and let me out. I'll walk back, like I'm coming from the clubhouse or something. I'll scout out the premises, locate the diapers, and see if there's anybody hanging around. At this hour of the day, everyone should be at work, so if I run into anyone, we are outta here. I want you to turn around at the end of the block and park, but leave the engine running. It'll look like you're waiting for someone. When you see me come out, pull up. If the coast is clear, we'll make the switch.” “Sounds like a plan. Let's do it!” . . . . Julia hated stakeouts, especially in the wintertime. You froze your butt off, and you emptied an entire thermos of black coffee trying to stay warm and keep awake. Then your bladder started to make its presence felt, reminding you that it was time to make a toilet run. The longer you ignored it, the more you squirmed, and unlike the guys, a lady couldn't exactly stand up in the middle of a high school parking lot and take a leak. Julia was miserable. Maybe, she thought, I'm getting too old for this. Maybe I should be wearing a diaper and a nice, cozy pair of baby pants like the professor. Then I could just piss myself and be done with it. Or maybe I need to take up a new line of work … Julia hated stakeouts. . . . . Tippi walked up the sidewalk with her head down and her gloved hands deep inside the pockets of her heavy winter coat. A stylish woolen cap made her even more anonymous; to anyone watching, she would appear to be a resident returning to her apartment from the rental office or clubhouse. Once inside the four story building, she discovered that there was no elevator waiting to send her aloft. Grimacing, she began to trudge up the stairs, her plan being to start on the top floor and work her way down. Her mood brightened when she exited the stairwell on the second floor. At the end of the corridor, she could see the bag of used diapers propped against an apartment door. Strolling casually, she went to the end of the corridor and peered down to the ground floor. She could see the small lobby and the door leading out to the parking lot. The lobby was empty, so she retreated and picked up the bag, trying to gauge its weight. Tippi nodded to herself and smiled. The bag of old rags that were sitting in the trunk of Cindy's car was identical to the bag outside the door, and about the same weight. Making the switch would be easier than she thought. She proceeded down the stairs and opened the door just enough to peek outside. Tippi was looking not only for the old beater that had stalked them yesterday, but for anything that seemed out of place. Seeing nothing suspicious in the lot, she trudged down the corridor and left the building. Less than five minutes later, she was back up on the second floor, scoring what she guessed would be some two to three dozen very, very smelly adult diapers. Whoever lived in that apartment, she surmised, was paying rent for a toilet that wasn't being used. Tossing the soiled diapers into the trunk, Tippi climbed into the passenger seat and turned the heater on full blast. It was a miserable day, but the first part of the Great Diaper Heist of 1979 had gone off without a hitch. Now, it was just a matter of waiting for Lullaby's truck to show up. They would find an empty slot in the parking lot of the adjoining building, and settle in to await its arrival. With the radio on and thermoses of hot chocolate and coffee to keep them warm, it was time to kick back and relax. . . . . Wheeling her cart through the vast warehouse, Janis Marsden was in awe. It was one thing to realize that the hospital was running like a finely tuned watch, and another to pull back the curtain and actually look behind the scenes. Trolling the aisles, gawking at bins filled with everything from q-tips to bed frames, she now understood why candy stripers never returned empty handed when their supervisors sent them to collect supplies from a storeroom. From the basement to the top floor, the complex operation to which she devoted six hours of her life a week was a well oiled machine. At lunch in the cafeteria, she had initially refused to go along with Tippi's plan to locate the source of Professor Grady's diapers, and casually help herself to a handful or two. Janis liked her job, and was seriously considering becoming a business major so that she could get a foot in the door of hospital administration. She didn't want to risk being excommunicated before she even got started, but as Tippi pointed out, sororities were notorious for their rituals, and if caught she could always excuse her behavior as just another initiation treasure hunt. No big deal. In retrospect, Janis was glad that she had finally caved to Tippi's pleas. Her supervisor had been only to happy to send her to the basement, shopping list in hand, so that the young candy striper could learn at first hand how the hospital really ran. One of the items on her shopping list? Adult diapers. Armed with a detailed floor plan furnished by a friendly young man at the check-in counter, she had had no trouble finding the mother lode. The bin was huge, the diapers neatly folded and stacked by unseen hands, just sitting there waiting for her to wander by. Row after row of adult diapers called out to her, each stack at least a few dozen high. She was staring at hundreds of the enormously thick diapers that Tippi had described … hundreds of them! Janis Marsden was in diaper heaven. She took what she needed to fill the order, then helped herself to an additional dozen. Her plan was to stash them in her locker, and at the end of her shift make two trips out to her car. Her backpack was large enough to hold two, and she would wear a third under her dress. Four trips at the end of two successive shifts would see her prizes safely back to the house. Before she returned to the ward with a cart piled high with fresh linens, Janis ventured off to raid one more bin-- the one containing the vinyl pants that patients in some wards wore over their diapers. She stuffed several of the transparent baby pants into the pockets of her pinafore, taking care to get a variety of sizes. Curious by nature, Janis decided to wear one of the baby pants over her diaper when she headed out to the car for the second time. The thick cloth made it impossible for her to walk normally, her stride now reduced to a toddler like waddle. Would anybody notice? Back at the house, when she took off her coat, would anyone comment on the bulge in her pants? A shiver ran down Janis's spine when she climbed into the car and started the engine. She gave it a minute to warm up, and used the time to wiggle around in the seat, trying to get the diaper to hug her body more comfortably. The child of hard working, conservative parents, Janis was quiet and obedient by nature. She had never done anything this daring in her whole life, and she was enjoying every moment of her criminal escapade. . . . . And more or less right on time,” Cindy crowed as she sat up straight in her seat, “here comes de truck, here comes de truck!” The two girls watched the Lullaby delivery van pull into the parking lot, and come to a stop opposite the entrance. The driver got out, and walked around to open the sliding door on the right side of the vehicle; a few moments later, he disappeared into the building with a lone bag bulging with nice, clean adult diapers. “Now's the moment of truth,” Tippi muttered more or less to herself; “will he spot the switch, or not?” She calculated that it should take him not more than ninety seconds to return to the van. Silently, she began to count backwards. She had just counted down to twenty when the door opened and the driver reemerged-- carrying the stash of oily rags that the girls had loaded into one of the identical bags that they had stolen on Monday morning. Tippi had added a few tokens harvested from Blofeld's litter box to give the rags a more authentic odor. “Looks like we passed the smell test,” Cindy laughed. The driver had tossed his noxious cargo into the back of the truck before driving off, exiting the lot onto the same side street that they were using for their heist. “Now we wait,” Tippi announced, crossing her arms to emphasize the point. “We'll give the old lady and her beater ten minutes to make an appearance. If she doesn't show, we'll make our move … same as before.” “Works for me,” Cindy agreed. “If Janis comes through with some of those super thick diapers that your professor wears, come the morning we'll be ready for business!” “I want to lay my hands on one of those locking diaper covers the prof wears,” Tippi replied. “Maybe Janis can track some down tomorrow. Imagine … keeping a guy in diapers 24/7, taking away his toilet privileges, giving him no choice but to pee and poop himself because his diapers are locked inside a pair of escape proof pants. You'd have a slave to do your bidding for as long as you wanted!” . . . . CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … At first, Julia was fascinated by the tracking device, and the precision with which one could follow its movement. When it was three miles away, it was barely audible, a single ... CH............................E..................................EP... hard to pick up over the sound of passing cars. As the diaper delivery van drew closer, however, the signal became stronger and more focused, and when it turned into the parking lot immediately across the road, it sounded much like the sirens that delivered a continuous blast all over the Twin Cities at one in the afternoon on the first Wednesday of the month. CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … Even the short distance that the driver had to traverse as he carried the bundle of fresh diapers from the truck to the building's second floor was enough to alter the signal … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … And so it went, second by second, minute by minute, the mindless noise assaulting her brain, over and over and over again. No end to it. Julia dug into the glove box, desperate to find aspirin … a forgotten flask … anything to ward off the assault. She found nothing. Julia hated stakeouts. . . . . “Time's up,” Tippi declared; “fire her up.” Cindy obligingly turned over the ignition, and backed up, and drove slowly up the road. She exited the lot onto the side street the same way that she had entered, and drove slowly up the road. As soon as she parked alongside the building, Tippi was out the door, dashing off to collect the prized diapers from their second floor perch. She was back in less than five minutes. With the diapers safely hidden away in the trunk, Cindy turned onto the main thoroughfare and headed north towards the interstate-- towards the interstate, and home. The Great Diaper Heist of 1979, brilliantly planned and masterfully executed, was drawing to a close. . . . . CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CHE …. EEP, CHE …. EEP, CHE … EEP … CHE …. EEP, CHE …. EEP, CHE … EEP … Julia didn't realize that she had been nodding off until the signal pattern changed. They've taken the bait! Startled into full wakefulness, she mentally reviewed what the professor had taught her about his little toy. A shorter, stronger return meant that the target was approaching. A longer, weaker return meant that it was moving away. The signal was definitely fading! Can't be south or east … the beep would have become stronger, not weaker, as the diapers went past me … Julia pulled out of the parking lot, and headed north on the broad boulevard toward the beltway, some three miles distant. There was another interstate less than a mile to her west, but she had decided to ignore it. The two highways crossed at one of the busiest interchanges in the state, so the odds were overwhelming that thieves bound for Minneapolis to the north or one of the wealthy suburbs to the west would take one route or the other. If she could catch up with them before they reached the interchange … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … Closer! Triumphantly pounding the steering wheel with her fist, and gambling that she could speed in the light, late afternoon traffic without risk of being pulled over, Julia worked to close the distance between herself and a group of vehicles a couple of hundred yards ahead. Catching the few traffic lights on the green helped, and when she finally eased to a stop, it was to make the left turn onto the ramp that would drop her down to join the rush hour traffic heading west on the beltway. There were three cars ahead of her … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … It's one of these three vehicles … the thieves are in one of these three vehicles!!! . . . . “So, who gets stuck washing the dirty diapers that are stinking up my trunk?” Sitting at the light, Cindy was wrinkling her nose in disgust. “I'll do the honors,” Tippi shrugged. She sniffed her hands, and then suddenly thrust them under Cindy's nose. “Oh, yuck,” Cindy screeched; “you smell like a diaper pail! What'd you do, open the bag and rummage around in there just for the thrill of it?” “Light's green,” Tippi answered nonchalantly. “I don't mind changing a dirty diaper; I just don't want to wear one!” Traffic on the beltway was moving, but slowly. “Shitty traffic,” Cindy complained. “It'll thin out once we get on the interstate … should be clear sailing all the way back to the house.” “Are you really going to wash these shitty diapers yourself?” “Sure. I did a lot of diaper duty when I was younger. But you know who's diapers I really want to change? The professor's. The guy's hot, and so, so submissive. I'd give anything to be his girlfriend!” Tippi held her fingers up to her nose, and inhaled deeply. “I'd keep him locked up just the way he is now, but every time I changed him? I'd tease him … keep him guessing whether this would be the day he got lucky … make him beg for it. Like I said earlier, don't think about the poop and the smell, Cindy; think about the payoff! Think about having a guy's cock under lock and key … think about the power that comes with owning his cock! Imagine him on his knees in front of you, begging for the privilege of pleasuring you, all in the hope that in a moment of weakness you'll unlock him and let him cum! You'd be a goddess!” “Geez, Tip … you are one seriously screwed up little girl! But I love it! Why stop at scalping the profs? If we lock their dicks up, none of the other houses will be able to use them to rack up points!” Making the turn to head north toward the city, Cindy smiled broadly. Tip was right: the traffic had thinned dramatically. Smooth sailing, she thought; smooth sailing all the way home! . . . . Julia was impatiently drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change, when her car phone rang. She groped for the handset, her eyes never looking away from the signal. “Hey, Mom! Just calling to see how the stakeout is coming. You staying awake?” Julia ruefully shook her head. Car phones were convenient, but why did someone always have to call when she was in the middle of a pursuit? Couldn't they at least wait until she was entertaining her husband in the back seat at a drive-in? Technology will be the death of us all ... “Northbound on Nicollet, approaching the interstate,” she said in her most businesslike voice. “They took the bait, Pris; I'm fourth car in line at a red light, and the tracking device is in one of the three cars ahead of me. Have a listen.” Eyes still glued to the red light, wondering if the damned thing was ever going to change, Julia waved the handset at the receiver. CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … “Julia, you're too close! Way too close! Back off a quarter of a mile before they spot you in their mirrors!” Julia was so surprised that she almost dropped the phone. “Ian? What are you ...?” A thousand thoughts cascaded through Julia's brain, and none of them were happy thoughts. Where the hell are you, and what the hell are the two of you up to? I swear to God, if you are playing Happy Couple with my daughter … Still staring at the red light while simultaneously strangling the telephone, Julia somehow managed to get her emotions reasonably under control. “Never mind ... It's a left turn, and I'll lose them on the interstate if I miss the light!” There was a hint of panic in her voice, and she prayed that Pris and Ian would attribute it to her fear of missing the lousy red light. And to make matters worse, she really, really did need to pee. Does anybody in one of those car chase scenes ever need a toilet break? How the hell did Steve McQueen manage to stay dry bouncing around San Francisco that way? Oh, hell, he was probably wearing a diaper … “No, you won't. If they're heading for the junction and you take the wrong highway, the signal will change dramatically. Remember, with both vehicles on the move, it is far more sensitive than it was with you stationary in that parking lot.” And just where did you field test this doohickey? Behind the Iron Curtain? “But the rate of separation … I'll lose the signal in a matter of seconds ...” Priscilla … baby … what have you got yourself into? “Doesn't matter. Reverse course at the first off ramp, and give it the gas. You'll reacquire it when you close in. Worst comes to worst, you set up a search pattern using city streets. Trust me about this, Julia … it's not my first rodeo.” Oh, trust me, that's obvious! Now, where, oh where, did that 'aw shucks' shtick of yours get to? Riddle me that, Batman! “Hold on! Light's changed … got to go!!” Julia dropped the phone, willing the light to stay green as the vehicles ahead of her inched their way through the slush to start down the westbound ramp. As it turned out, hers was the last car to make the turn, and she got a good look at the drivers in the three vehicles ahead of her. You have got to be kidding me ... Holding onto the steering wheel with one hand, her foot dancing back and forth between the accelerator and brake pedals, trying to keep her eyes on the road … Julia felt around for the phone. “Pris … Honey, are you still there?” “Still here, Mom. Just giving my Secret Agent Man a hug and a kiss for a job well done.” “Young lady, I will talk with you about Professor Grady later!” Lord, give me strength! Would someone care to explain how, in a span of less than seventy two hours, my hitherto calm, sensible daughter has gone and fallen madly in love with a crippled vet who's spent years wandering the world doing God only knows what for his country ... “Right now, I need you to call your father. It's unbelievable. I ran into two girls yesterday when traipsing around town in the wake of the Lullaby van. Well, guess what! They're driving a different car, but it's them! They're the diaper thieves! Call Dad, and tell him that I need a local address for the girl he ran through the DMV yesterday-- Tippi Anne Bjornsen of New Ulm!” And what do they call your boyfriend at headquarters … Double Oh Diaper Man, Licensed to Kill? Who should I call first … Rod Serling, or Mike Wallace? CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … “No need to bother Dad.” CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … Julia knew that her daughter was laughing her head off, and she could have sworn that she could hear Ian doing a play by play in the background. “Ian … um … Professor Grady … is pretty sure that he knows the young lady in question. She's a student, Mom-- and a sorority girl! So, congratulations! You've cracked the case, and now you get to inform Spats Belmondo that he's the victim of a typical sorority stunt pulled off by a bunch of enterprising juvenile delinquents!” Oh, lucky me … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … “Julia, head for sorority row; we'll meet you there.” Well, at least he hasn't forgotten how to issue orders. Nice to meet you, Major … CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP, CHEEP … “Pris can read them their rights, maybe place them under arrest. I'm thinking that a night in the slammer would probably do this crew some good!” “Book 'em, Danno!” It was a great line, but unfortunately Ian had already hung up the phone. Julia increasingly had to concentrate on her driving. Heading north on the interstate, there was now only one car separating her from the target vehicle. If it changed lanes, she would be fully visible, and the Bjornsen girl would no doubt recognize her beater if she bothered to look in the mirror. Julia slowed down, willing another car to slide in front of her. CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP, CH..E..EP … When the phone rang again, it was with a sense of genuine resignation that Julia picked up. She had a pretty good idea who was calling, and what she was going to say. “Mom, I just got off the phone with Chief Mischof. I've got an address for you. Ready?” “Fire away.” Priscilla did so, and promised to meet her there, but she went on casually to add that first she had to take Ian upstairs and change his diaper, which was certainly wet and possibly poopy. Remembering her conversation in Rita's office just a few hours earlier, Julia was sorely tempted to ask her daughter if she would need a few extra minutes to feed him his ba bas as well, but she decided that this was a conversation best not conducted while driving fifty five miles an hour on the interstate. But it is a conversation we are going to have, daughter of mine; oh yes, we are! “Aargh,” Julia screamed as she repeatedly pounded the steering wheel in frustration. Is she kinky? Is she kinky, and we simply missed it? CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP … And where is this relationship headed? CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP … CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP … CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP, CH …... EEP … Where...? CH.....E.....EP ...

Thanks for all the responses. SO I will ask this. Are there any sissies who would consider being into other sissies, so long as they are strictly feminine and keep their diapers on? I find myself sometimes attracted to sissies because of how ultra feminine they are. So long as they look like women. Sort of like I could be attracted to a trans female who looked like a female. Not sure if that makes sense. 🙃

After a few recent weeks of re-discovery, I’d like to pay homage to the simplest type of nappies that I own: my humble pinned, terry towelling squares. 60” x 60” white (well, mostly white: most of them have dealt with one or more “incidents”) towel-like garments, kite folded and pinned under voluminous milky-white plastic pants. Old school. They’re years old. I don’t even know how many years. Some of them are more translucent than others, having sacrificed a reasonable percentage of their mass to the demanding gods of tumble-drying but even those can still easily be augmented with a laughably-cheap 24” x 24” baby’s terry nappy as a “booster” pad or, in the possibility of foul weather being encountered on its voyage, a liner. I use cloth nappies 2 -3 nights per week in a way similar to someone devout might give up jelly beans for lent hoping to atone for a lifetime of mortal sin (clue: they’re wasting their time. Sin is the stock-in-trade currency of most religions and legions of highly inventive priests, prophets and pastors will be working hard to maintain market liquidity). I use cloth (when convenient) in the forlorn hope that doing so will offset my recreational bent for peeing into non-biodegradable, fossil-fuel-sourced plastic bags filled with pulverised tree-and-chemicals before tossing them into landfill. Twice per day. That and cloth is cheaper. Having realised that re-engineering my nappy cadence to go to bed dry and thus “catch” myself bedwetting was doing little more than re-training me at night, I’ve put the various less-than-12-hour-solution cloth “nappy garments” I have back into a holding pattern in the cupboard and dug out my trusty old towelling squares for some long-haul (12 hour) overnight flights. They work. Like an old Cleveland 351 V8, they’re not sophisticated and they can smell a bit but they absolutely will get the job done. They’re not for the faint-hearted though. From a sartorial elegance perspective, they’re more “Baby Huey” than “James Bond”. Your bum really WILL look big in them. Then there’s all of the modern odour suppression technology that we associate with cloth nappies: none at all. Pee at your peril. Secure fitting plastic pants will help mute, but not erase olfactory evidence of your misdeeds. At some point you WILL smell like a toddler, even if you think you don’t. Terries will also stretch a little when wet, a tendency that unfortunately misaligns with a tendency for them TO get wet. They can then get saggy (I can’t fathom why this wasn’t a problem for Baby Huey). Compression pants help a bit (and will additionally, obscure some of the worst of the bulk) but pinned terry nappies are probably not your weapon of choice if you were planning on going out for a run, or, if the mood takes you, a bout of pogo sticking. Bed is definitely where they are at their best. There, their visual bulk is utterly irrelevant (at least to most of the world) and their orientation towards the horizontal mutes the siren song of gravitational attraction. Bed also showcases their greatest negative virtue. Assuming anything short of criminal negligence, leaking is practically impossible in them. You’re wearing padding ALL the way around you with none of the impoverished “plastic only” bad-lands that disposables have. You’re literally wrapped in thick cloth and furthermore, that cloth, has superb “wicking” capability. Wicking (capillary action for the technically inclined) is that mysterious process whereby moisture (that’s pee in this case) is rapidly transported from “ground zero” to be dispersed across the whole nappy. This to the point where sometime after an initial wetting, the nappy at “ground zero” has de-saturated sufficiently to cop another round of fire without incident. Wicking works in defiance of gravity as it relies upon inter-molecular forces between pee and nappy fibres to transport fluid. (I’m betting that “intermolecular forces” and “nappy” don’t typically cohabitate the same sentences very often – this is how we push envelopes in our strange world). These are the ONLY nappies I have where I can lay on my side in bed and completely dump a whole bladder-full into them feeling nothing more than a comfortable warm wetness spreading down to whichever of my hips is the one on the downhill side of my position in bed and a warm glow of confidence that this warm wetness is inside my nappy and not inside my mattress. They feel wet when they get wet (in the manner of cloth) but I don’t find it at all uncomfortable. The whole “nappy wetting” sensation is probably a little more vivid in cloth and after the deed is done, it’s more of a distinctly clammy warmth in the relevant parts but even if I disliked that, the sensation fades soon enough, or I stop noticing it. I’m not sure which it is. Folded cloth nappies are relatively easy to launder. They compare and contrast nicely with some of my “all-in-one” style cloth nappies. Whilst similarly absorbent and similarly good at wicking as my folded/pinned cloth nappies, those monocoque-chassis construction adult cloth garments can pose challenges on laundry day. All that thick-core absorbency that suffered in noble silence at pee time, exacts its revenge at wash-and-dry time. Regular necessary use of anti-bacterial additive to the wash suggests that there’s some memory lingering on inside them and irrespective of whether it is pee or simply wash water, it can be very, very hard to get moisture back OUT of them. They are a LOT easier to wet than they are to dry. Folded and pin towelling nappies do not suffer from this issue. Although suitably thick whilst worn, once unpinned and unfolded it is no worse than a towel to launder. They last for years. For the last few weeks I’ve had these back on “high rotation” as a part of my weekend cloth nappy dictum. Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights have been spent pinned into these old-school nappies and I’ve noticed something. I think I’m “wetting the bed” an awful lot whilst wearing these. I’m currently reflecting on why this might be so. Standby for updates.

Yeah if I am using a ultra aborbent product like in BeDry or Megamax I still have to use 3-4 diapers a day. At least one of them will be messy (usually my night diaper that I keep in until I mess). But if I am staying properly hydrated I need to change after 6-8 hours regardless (morning, early afternoon, evening, nighttime). If I am wearing less absorbent products I use 5-7 per day. I am a big person (tall not fat) so I probably have more urine output than the average individual. I can see how someone much smaller than me who doesn't stay hydrated might get by with 2, but they're going to smell more strongly and probably have a higher risk of skin irritation.

Every wet bed/wet pants earned me a trip over mum or dad's knee. If I woke up wet 7 mornings in a row (happened roughly once a month, I did have some dry nights), dad took his belt off. They didn't get me protection, not even a waterproof sheet to save the mattress. I left when I was 18 and never went back, I moved in with my aunt and uncle who lived near my uni. After they found out how my parents treated me they told me to never go back, I stayed with them until after I finished uni and got my own flat. My aunt and uncle bought me protection, and I was dry most nights by the end of the first school year.

Chapter 18 (Sunday, Day 4) I examined the pull-up in my hand, tracing the outline of the butterfly on the front with my fingertips. "It's actually kind of cute," I mused silently, feeling a faint blush creeping into my cheeks. Rising from my bed, I allowed the towel wrapped around me to fall to the floor, leaving me standing naked in the center of my bedroom. In that moment, reality hit me like a ton of bricks. This was the moment I had feared, yet paradoxically, it also held the solution I desperately needed. By donning this pull-up, I would essentially be surrendering to my circumstances. As I contemplated, memories of the past few days flooded my mind. I had repeatedly promised myself that I would gain control over my bladder issues, only to fail miserably each time. Reflecting on the times when I had genuinely not cared about wetting myself, I couldn't help but question whether it was my body betraying me or simply my own negligence. Shaking my head to dispel the doubts, I reminded myself, "It's never happened before, and I'd know if it were my fault." Summoning a newfound determination, I finally mustered the courage to put on the pull-up. Unfolding it, I carefully threaded my feet through the leg holes, slowly pulling it up my legs. A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I realized the reason behind its name. Running my hands over the snug fabric, I adjusted it into place, finding it to be a perfect fit. As I approached the mirror, the padding between my legs became apparent, though it wasn't as uncomfortable as I had anticipated. It felt like a soft, gentle embrace, akin to a comforting pillow. Admitting to myself that it was rather nice, I made a mental note never to share that sentiment with anyone else. Examining my reflection, I took in the sight of my damp brown hair cascading around my shoulders, still slightly wet from my bath. My eyes held a myriad of emotions – a mixture of broken despair, embarrassment, and tentative hope. My eyes wandered down my body. There was an innocence to my flat chest that spoke of juvenility, accentuated by the presence of the pull-up snugly encasing my hips. A faint smile graced my lips as a wave of dizziness washed over me once more. Memories of strange dreams flooded my mind – standing before my classmates, running through the park, getting diaper checked by my mom, and even wetting myself while trying a dress on in a clothing store. They all merged into a blur, leaving me unable to distinguish between dream and reality. Lost in the haze, I found myself gazing into my own eyes, a sense of contentment washing over me, accompanied by a gradual warmth spreading inside the pull-up between my legs. Time seemed to blur as I stood there, lost in introspection, until the grumble of my stomach jolted me back to reality. Turning away from the mirror, I rummaged through my closet in search of my favorite nightgown, only to recall that it had been soaked through just hours earlier. A pang of disappointment tugged at my heart, not because of the discomfort of wetting the bed, but rather because I longed to wear the familiar garment. Opting instead for a pair of gray sweatpants and a purple shirt, I surveyed my reflection one last time, noting with satisfaction that the pull-up was practically invisible beneath my clothing. With new determination, feeling safer and more confident than I had in quite a while, I left my bedroom behind, descending the stairs to the kitchen below, ready to face the day ahead. "Morning, pumpkin," my dad greeted me from the kitchen table, his coffee mug cradled in his hands. Stepping into the room, I returned his greeting with a contented smile, the warm padding of the pull-up still comforting me with every step. "Morning, Dad," I replied, the warmth in my voice reflecting my newfound sense of ease. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he observed me. "Looks like someone's in a good mood today," he chuckled, a smile playing on his lips. As I made my way to the fridge, intent on pouring myself a glass of orange juice, I could feel my mom's curious gaze upon me. Standing in front of the stove, tending to pancakes, she watched me with a curious expression, her eyebrow raised in silent inquiry. I met her gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between us.She was undoubtedly wondering about the sudden shift in my demeanor, and I couldn't blame her. With a subtle shrug, I conveyed my silent response. After I finished pouring the glass of orange juice, I carefully made my way over to the table where my dad was sitting. Each step felt deliberate, almost as if I were navigating through uncharted territory, acutely aware of the soft padding of the pull-up beneath my clothes. Setting the glass down on the table, I took a moment to gather my thoughts before taking a seat in front of my dad. As I settled into the chair, the warm cushioning of the pull-up provided a strange but oddly comforting sensation, reminding me of its presence with every shift in position. Across the table, my dad looked up from his coffee, offering me a warm smile of greeting. Returning the smile, I felt a flicker of gratitude for his unwavering support, he was simply happy to see me happy. Glancing at my dad, I couldn't help but wonder how much he already knew. "Does Dad know?" I directed my question at my mom as she set down the pancakes in front of us and took a seat next to my dad. "Just what I mentioned earlier," my mom replied, her tone gentle yet guarded. "I haven't told him about our conversation yet." Before I could process her response, my dad interjected with casual curiosity, "Oh, so you guys finally had your talk?" Heat rushed to my cheeks as I realized that he was already somewhat aware of my struggles. I nodded meekly, my embarrassment growing with each passing moment. Grabbing a pancake and placing it on my plate, I focused on the task at hand, trying to avoid my dad's gaze. However, his next question drew my attention back to him. "Did you discuss anything I need to know?" he inquired, his tone casual yet attentive. Panic surged within me, and I shook my head hastily, unable to meet his gaze, not wanting to spill my beans again this quickly. Thankfully, my mom came to my rescue, sensing my discomfort. "We can discuss it later," she said gently, directed at my dad, her words a lifeline in my sea of embarrassment. With that, she too helped herself to a pancake, leaving me to grapple with my crimson blush and the pancake on my plate. A few pancakes drowned in syrup later, amidst light-hearted small talk, my mom suddenly broached the topic again. "Soo..." she began tentatively, her gaze fixed on me. "How do they feel?" Her question caught me off guard, and I choked slightly on the orange juice I was sipping, stealing a glance at my dad. His knowing expression confirmed that he had already suspected what my mom was referring to. "Hmm, not too bad, I guess," I replied, mustering a nonchalant tone despite the unease swirling within me. To my relief, my mom didn't seem to notice my hesitation; instead, she appeared visibly relieved. "I was really worried you'd make a fuss about it, you know?" she admitted, her voice tinged with relief. I furrowed my brow in confusion, unsure of what she meant. "What do you mean?" I asked, my confusion evident in my tone. My mom offered me a reassuring smile, her expression softening as she spoke. "Well, you know how teenagers your age usually are... always trying to prove they're all grown-up," she explained. "I'm just glad you accepted them so quickly." I shrugged, still mulling over her words as I took another sip of orange juice, the tangy sweetness momentarily distracting me from my thoughts. But as I pondered her words, a nagging doubt crept into my mind. "Am I really that different from other teenagers?" I wondered silently, the question lingering in the air. Sure, I had my bladder issues, which made me somewhat unique, but aside from that, was I really so different? Shaking off the thought, I pushed aside the burgeoning insecurity, unwilling to let it overshadow the newfound sense of acceptance I had finally embraced. After we had finished eating and cleaning up the kitchen, I retreated to my bedroom, sinking into the crinkling comfort of my bed. As I lay there, thoughts swirled through my mind like leaves caught in a whirlwind, each one a reminder of the support I had received and the burden of secrecy I had carried for far too long. Reflecting on the first time I had experienced an accident at school, I couldn't help but feel grateful for Lily's unwavering support. She had been my rock through it all, helping me navigate the challenges with grace and understanding. "Lily," I murmured to myself, a sudden realization dawning in my mind. "I should probably tell her the news." With newfound determination, I sat up on my bed, reaching for my phone on the nightstand. Dialing her number, I braced myself for her enthusiastic greeting. "Ellie!" Lily practically screamed into the phone, her excitement palpable even through the device. It was moments like these where Lily’s enthusiasm and energy always reminded me of a dog, well, an emotional support dog I guess. "Hey, Lily," I replied, my voice tinged with a hint of nervousness. "What's up?" she asked eagerly. Taking a deep breath, I began to explain, stumbling over my words as I struggled to find the right way to broach the subject. "Well... how do I put this... uhm... I guess long story short, my parents know," I finally managed to say, my voice soft and hesitant. Her response was immediate. "Your parents know what?" she questioned, her confusion evident. Sighing inwardly, I realized that I would have to be more direct. "You know... my bladder issues and stuff," I admitted reluctantly, feeling a flush of embarrassment creeping into my cheeks. "Oh," she gasped, the realization hitting her like a ton of bricks. "Oh gosh, oh no, what did they say? Did they put you back in diapers?" Her questions came rapid-fire, her worry palpable even from a distance. Taken aback by her assumption, confused why this was the first thing she thought about, I stumbled over my words, trying to find the right way to explain. "Err... I guess, wait no, I mean... technically they're called pull-ups," I clarified, hoping to ease her concerns. Her next question caught me off guard, leaving me momentarily speechless. "Oh gosh, are they bad? Are they forcing you?" she pressed further, her voice tinged with apprehension. "No," I reassured her quickly, grateful for the opportunity to clarify. "I mean they're not forcing me, and I guess they're perfect for my issues... at least for now. I'm not sure how they'd hold up at night though." My voice trailed off uncertainly as I contemplated the implications. "What do you mean at night?" Lily's voice cut through my thoughts, her curiosity piqued by my admission. With a deep breath, I braced myself for her reaction as I began to explain the nighttime struggles that had plagued me recently, revealing the truth behind my mother's confrontation earlier that morning. "Uhm... where do I start," I began, feeling the weight of the conversation bearing down on me. "It's been happening two days in a row now, and yesterday I managed to wash all my sheets before my parents woke up. But this morning, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep in front of the washing machine, where my mom found me and confronted me." I deliberately omitted most of the details, not wanting to dwell on the tears shed in that vulnerable moment. "So she found you this morning and you told her everything, and then she got you the diapers?" Lily pieced together the puzzle, her tone filled with curiosity. "Wait, it's Sunday, and all the shops are closed. Where did she get the diapers from?" she continued before I had a chance to interject. "Well, first off, they're called pull-ups," I corrected her gently, seizing the opportunity to clarify. "Sorry, pull-ups," she corrected herself, eager to understand. "And secondly,” I continued, “she apparently knew for quite a while. She gave me the pull-ups yesterday morning, actually," I explained, hoping to shed some light on the situation. "I don't understand," Lily replied, her confusion evident in her tone. I noticed a little pressure nagging me at the edge of my mind. I pushed a little and felt my pull-up becoming warm again, relieving the tension. With a deep sigh, I realized just how complicated and confusing this whole ordeal truly was to explain.

I never really set out to "achieve" this, and I'm not entirely convinced it's an ongoing thing - I brushed my teeth this morning after taking off my overnight diaper and I didn't drip. That precipitates a funny story, actually, because I slept at a buddy's place last night after getting into some high-octane IPA's. I was in their guest bedroom, and I slept like a rock, and woke up soaked - I was impressed with how wet I was, and I felt around to make sure I hadn't leaked into the sheets anywhere, but I had not. I was very wet almost all the way up the back, so I think I did that thing I do where I rolled onto my back when I was wetting, but I have no recollection of it at all. My diaper, a MegaMax, was very swollen, but the bathroom dedicated to the guest bedroom was being used to store painting supplies, so I would have had to get around ladders and roller poles and trays and buckets of paint, to make use of that room, so I had to pull shorts on and waddle through their main living area to go brush my teeth and get changed in their main washroom, which is right off of their living room. I had gotten up a bit early so I thought I'd have the place to myself, but nope, my buddy's wife was sitting on the couch, reading and drinking tea, in the tomb-silent room. You can probably see where this is going. I was slightly aware of the sounds my diaper was making as I said good morning crossing the room, though more concerned that the bulk of it might be noticeable, so I detoured around their substantial kitchen island, ostensibly to put a glass in their sink, but mostly to put it between me and her. But then, I had to go change my diaper in a bathroom right off the hall, right around the corner from where she was sitting. I went in there and turned on the fan, and then turned a tap on for background noise (and to wash my face), before ever-so-slowly pulling two tabs off on one side, so I could slide the diaper down. I'm usually thankful for those mighty MegaMax tabs, but not this time - it was hard to pull them off quietly. Then, I had to ball it up and put it into a plastic bag, and into my backpack, before putting on a Rearz BeDry (which I'm in now)... man, did unfolding and putting on that diaper sound loud to my ears. I know there were a lot of plasticky noises coming from the bathroom - I just hope that the fan and the running water obscured them, and that if she noticed anything, she assumed that I was manipulating my toiletries and towel out of and into a plastic bag. I had my backpack with me but I elected to carry the bag separately for my return trip across the main room, just to reinforce that I had a plastic bag with me, and let it bounce off my knee as I walked, to disguise any noise coming from my new diaper, which was still a bit stiff, having just been unfolded. Speaking of that backpack, it is my defacto diaper bag these days, but, about an hour ago, I was unexpectedly given a real diaper bag, by my wife. Her and my daughter were pulling suitcases out of the basement, and she started going through a tote of folded up bags that we have down there (my wife keeps everything), looking for a laptop bag for my daughter. What she found in there as well, was a diaper bag that we had used when my kids were still in diapers, and she brought it up to me and said, somewhat jokingly, "Here, I thought you could use this. Remember this bag? I think we bought it when (second daughter) was born, because the one we used for (first daughter) was too small. I used it as a purse for a while, too. Maybe it can be a diaper bag again, hmmm?" I looked at it as she held it up, before taking it from her with a raised eyebrow. It wasn't obviously a diaper bag - it was actually branded "Jeep", of all things, and it was in shades of dun and dark blue, with a camo motif. The top flap of it could be folded over and had doubled-up layer underneath it that allowed it to extend out as a changing pad, which would not be of much use for anyone more than about 30 inches long, but, the pockets inside were big enough for a bin of wipes, baby powder, diaper cream, and the pocket for diapers was huge and closed separately with a zipper - it could conceal two or three decent diaper, easily. I have it on the floor of my bedroom, next to my bed right now. I am considering using it as my in-car diaper bag. It's kind of funny how it has been resurrected. I don't know if my wife was serious or not, but, I might follow her suggestion.

Seventy-Two Step 1.5: Talk to Mommy The next step on my return to adulthood was actually potty training. But it felt like there was actually a step that needed to happen before that–one that I probably should’ve started with in the first place.kylie I needed to talk to Mommy. I needed to tell her about what I wanted. But this was proving to be easier said than done. I had tried, on multiple occasions in the day or two that followed Mommy’s brief business trip to Atlanta, to start the conversation with her, but I just couldn’t commit. I’d stare at her with my mouth hanging open. Or I’d panic and say something off-topic, putting us on another tangent that I couldn’t steer back towards what I originally wanted to say. “We haven’t talked much about Lyndie’s little ‘field trip’ with you the other night while I was away,” Mommy said as she changed my diaper. My feet were pointed towards the ceiling as her practiced hands wiped away my latest stinky mess. “Did you have a good time?” “Uh, yeth,” I said through my pacifier. “You can take that thing out of your mouth, silly,” she said. “I understand you went to that pizza place near where you used to live. Quite the adventure for a little boy.” I opened my mouth wide, letting the pacifier roll out from my lips and onto the changing table next to my head. “It was good,” I said. “I missed, uh…” I wasn’t sure how to finish that thought. What was it that I had missed? Not the specific people–both Ava and Lyndie had been over to the house recently. “You missed pretending to be an adult?” Mommy asked. “Y-yeah. I think that’s it.” This felt like a good opportunity to have the conversation I had been struggling with having. “Well I’m proud of you,” she said. “R-really?” Maybe this would be a pretty easy conversation. She’d do most of the work for me–telling me that she was proud of me for going out and hanging out with my friends without her. “Lyndie said that you managed to not humiliate yourself in front of everyone.” “Oh…” “I don’t want to say that I was rooting for you to have some nasty blowout in your pants in front of Ava’s friend. But…I do find the thought of that a little…titillating.” I sighed. Truthfully? I did too. But that was for neither here nor there. “Can I ask you something, Mommy?” “Yes, pumpkin?” “Uhm…do you think you’d be upset if I did things like that more often?” She chuckled a little, reaching to grab yet another wipe. “Do you think that’d upset me?” “No.” “You’re free to go out and be a big boy if you want to.” I could see it on her face–she had a good idea of the direction this conversation was going. It was hard to pin down what her expression was broadcasting. A little bit of sadness, maybe. A little bit of pride. “I’ve been thinking…” She sighed. “Oh? And what have you been thinking about?” “I think that I might be ready to, uhm, start…being an adult again?” Was that a tear welling in her eye? She blinked, and it was gone. “Of course, sweetpea. That was always the idea, right? Whenever you were ready.” “I mean…I don’t want to, like, flip a switch and suddenly be a big boy again.” I felt my cheeks warm at my mention of ‘big boy.’ “At whatever pace you want,” she said. “Like…I probably need diapers for a little while yet.” “Well, sure,” she cooed. “You made this little disaster while taking a nap.” “I don’t know where to start,” I shrugged. “I don’t know what to do. I just…I feel like I’ve been hiding for too long.” “What have you been hiding from?” she asked. The dirty diapers, and the wipes used to clean up after it, were bundled up and tossed into the diaper pail. It was a perfect toss, the diaper disappearing into the bin. She had lots of practice. “Nothing in particular, I don’t think.” “Your mother?” “Oh…yeah. Maybe a little. But, also, maybe I’ve just been hiding from growing up.” She laughed, giving my legs a little shake. “Look at you. You’re so tense. Was this that hard of a thing for you to say to me?” “A little.” “Why?” It probably wasn’t actually a mystery to her–she just wanted to hear me explain it, in my own words, rather than assuming. It was one of the many, many, things I loved about her. “I just…well…” I thought of Hillary again. She hadn’t actually done anything wrong, I didn’t think. She just…grew up. Moved on. Surely, Mommy had known that day would come–just as she knew the day would come for me. “If I left, eventually, it’d mean that you’d be alone. And…I hate thinking about that.” She took a deep breath, laughing from her nose as she exhaled slowly, her eyes closed and head shaking. “You’re just the sweetest boy.” A fresh diaper was unfurled and slid beneath me. Next came the liberal layer of baby powder. “I’ve been happy to have you in my life,” she continued. “I’d have been happy to just have you as my assistant at the office, but it’s been a joy to have you in my home–our home–for the last few months. But we both knew this couldn’t last forever. So, whatever it is you need to do, I’ll help you achieve that.” “But…” “And don’t worry about me, Baby,” she smiled. “I’ll be fine.” Her calm and collected responses probably didn’t do what she wanted them to. She likely wanted to encourage me and assure me that moving on was the best decision. Instead, her compassion was just reminding me that I was probably never going to meet anyone else like her. Maybe I’ll just stay here forever. “What will you do if I leave?” I asked. “Will you have another assistant? You, uh, don’t have one at your new company, right?” “I have Amber working at the front desk right now,” she said. “But she’s a competent young woman. I think I’d trust her taking on more duties as my assistant.” “Uh, do you think that…she’d be an assistant like…me?” Mommy laughed. “You know, I think she might go for it if I proposed it to her. I see a little glimmer in her eyes when she sees Neve taking Risa into her office for a feeding. But, I think I might be taking a break from changing diapers for a while.” “Oh?” She smiled and shrugged. “I suppose that sounds like I have another idea of what I’d want to do with myself, but I haven’t figured that out yet. And that thrills me.” It felt good to hear her say that. And though I didn’t think this was the case, it almost sounded like I was doing her a favor by moving on. Soon after, my feet landed back on the ground again as I hopped down from the changing table–a fresh diaper between my thighs and my onesie snapped shut over it. As was tradition, she gave my padded bottom a good pat. “What do you need from me?” Mommy asked. “How can I help you do the things you want to do?” I took a trip down the mental checklist: Call my mother. Call Megan. Potty training. Deal with chastity? Figure out school. Figure out a job. Figure out living on my own. I thought that might be the order, but maybe it didn’t matter–so long as all those things were figured out eventually. “Well…maybe there are two things you can help me with.” “Okay. Shoot.” “So, for one, I want to have a…job.” “Ah,” Mommy said. “You’re right. I can definitely help you with that.” “Like…a real job,” I said, a little nervous that she’d take offense to my request. “I want to learn how to do things. I want experience. I want to help do work.” She laughed. “I don’t know what the fun in that is–but that’s still something I can provide for you. When you’re ready, you can come to the office with me.” “Th-thank you, Mommy.” “And the other thing?” she asked. “You said there were two things I could help you with?” “Well…I should probably be a little less dependent on diapers, right?” “Potty training, huh?” “Just a word of warning: my mother claims that it was hard to potty train me the first time.” “Should I give her a call? Maybe she can give me some pointers.” It didn’t matter if she was joking or not–the very thought of Mommy and my mother having a conversation together was still the most terrifying thing I could think of. Especially now that my mother might have had a little insight into my infantile life. “If she figured it out, I’m sure you can too,” I said. “Well one of us needs to call your mother,” she replied. Touché. “Th-that’s actually on the list,” I said. I had already talked Mommy’s ear off about the humiliation I felt when my mother was the accidental recipient of photos intended for Mommy–many times. “Good,” she said. “She probably misses you.” She stopped short of just commanding me to call. I’d have done it if she just told me to–but we both knew it’d be better if I handled it when I was ready. “Thank you, Mommy,” I said. I wasn’t thanking her for anything specific–it was just a general note of appreciation for everything. “Of course, Baby. Now then. I’ve got a few emails and calls I need to catch up on downstairs. You think this diaper might last a while?” I nodded. “I think so.” “Good boy. I’ll be in my office if you need me. And Clark?” “Yes, Mommy?” “Your phone is where you left it, in the drawer in the kitchen. You might need to charge it. That is, if you need it.” Soon after, I had been left to my own devices. Call your mother. I knew I needed to. Call Megan. But I wasn’t as close to her. Would she even care when I called? Call…Paige? No, I’d probably text her. But that seemed like a much more palatable idea than reaching out to anyone else. Before I moved in with Mommy, my cellphone had been practically glued to my hand–as it likely is for most anyone else in the 21st Century. An unintended consequence of my move, however, had been a lot less screen time. I had handed my laptop and cellphone over to Mommy early on–though they were never actually hidden away. She’d give me time on them in small doses–but if I really wanted them, I could have them. For a time, I had missed being so connected to the world. I had taken for granted how easy it was to know anything. News. Music. A game to distract me. YouTube. Wikipedia. It was all just a finger's movement away. With a screen less convenient to get to, I had to fill that time with something else. Thinking, mostly. But then I got sick of thinking all the time. I’ve heard people say that technology like phones, tablets, and laptops only serve to act as pacifiers for adults. I’d argue that I wasn’t at my most infantile until my phone was gone. When I had gotten sick of thinking–I became proficient at just turning my mind off. My phone was right where I expected it to be, and it was dead. Mommy had charging cables in just about every room of the house, and so it wasn’t hard to find one. I plugged it in, and waited for it to charge for a little bit. As tempting as it was to stare off into space and slip into the empty headspace I sometimes found synonymous with being ‘baby-brained,’ I just stared at the phone–waiting for it to be charged enough to use. A few minutes later, the screen illuminated. Off the grid. It was a phrase I had thought about from time to time. I hadn’t really gone off the grid–not in the way that people who prided themselves on such a feat did it. I had merely become harder to reach. Perhaps frustratingly so. 27 Missed Text Messages. I used to make it a habit to at least check my phone once a week–just to make sure that I wasn’t missing anything important. That habit had slipped into the ether at some point. I was ignoring the texts from my mother. The friends–the friends I cared about–knew where I was. And the rest just didn’t seem important at all. There were a few texts from ‘Mom’–the name still throwing me off when I saw it. It was my mother–not Mommy. I had only just changed her name to ‘Mom’ in my phone before everything in my life upended. In fact, the change of name had been what caused the confusion when Megan sent pictures of my messy diaper to the wrong woman. My mother reached out almost every week. Not long after I had moved in with Mommy, her messages had an almost pleading tone to them–practically begging for me to call her. At the time, I assumed it was, exclusively, because she wanted to know what those pictures were about. More recently, her texts seemed to lack a sense of immediacy–acting only as somber reminders that she still cared about me, regardless of whatever it was that she had seen earlier. Her most recent text was really all I needed to read: Mom: “I hope you’re doing well, Clark.” For the most part, the rest of the new texts seemed to be of no real consequence. A cousin was spamming every number saved in his phone to try to drum up support for a new online business he was working on. A group text from some folks I had gone to college with had some new activity. Also: Ava - “Hey, you around? I was hoping we could catch up.” Ava had reached out a little bit ago too–seemingly before Mommy had asked her to babysit for me. The text was dated a few weeks ago. I couldn’t help but wonder what might have changed in my timeline if I had answered her then. Did my silence help push her towards Caleb, even a little bit? No use dwelling on that now. Though that did remind me of something else. I had Paige’s number memorized by this point. I punched it in and started crafting a message for her. I was met with writer’s block–texter’s block?–right away. Even before I had allowed myself to regress to babyhood, I hadn’t been the most suave when it came to the ladies. What was I supposed to say? “Hey, baby, am I happy to have seen you, or is my diaper just wet?” No, no, no. I deleted the message as quickly as I could. “It was great seeing you the other night. I hope I can see you again soon.” Better. And true. But…was that really what I wanted my opening message to her to be? I felt like I had to reference diapers somehow. I was just so curious about what Paige’s deal was. Maybe Lyndie was right and I had somehow managed to inspire someone else to start wearing diapers. Considering how many people had seen–or known–about my diapers by now, maybe the odds were in my favor that someone liked what they saw. What was the other option? That of all the people in my neighborhood to have seen me in a diaper, Pizza Girl just so happened to be an ageplay enthusiast herself? “Keeping dry?” No, that wasn’t any good either. Deleted. “I cracked open a jar of strained green beans today and I thought about you…” What the fuck? No. Deleted. I was overthinking it, and would probably continue to overthink it. Me, to Paige: “Hello. This is Clark. AKA…Diaper Boy. It was great seeing you the other night. I hope I can see you again soon.” Sent. Done. There was a hot spurt of pee in my diaper, the new warmth quickly absorbed by the padding and dispersed in every direction. I wondered how Paige would react to the truth: that I didn’t just like diapers–I wore them 24/7 and usually needed someone else to change them for me. Would she run for the hills? Or would she just laugh and volunteer to wipe my ass for me? I’m probably jumping into this stuff way too quickly. I should be thinking about potty training. I should be thinking about working and saving money. School. Apartments. I should, at the very least, not have my cock locked up in a cage when I go out to meet people. How soon was too soon to tell someone you were interested in that your cock was, effectively, off limits? For now, at least. I wished I had brought that up in my conversation with Mommy earlier. There was another splash of warmth between my legs. Might as well just empty it all out. I closed my eyes and exhaled slowly as I finished what my body had already started–releasing a nice long stream into the diaper. All this time later and I still wasn’t sick of this feeling. It was a moment of pure bliss, feeling the diaper swell and thicken around me. And then, immediately after, there was the pleasure of getting to sit in my swampy pants. Sometimes–when I’d wet so much that the padding couldn’t keep up with all the moisture–excess pee would puddle at the bottom of the diaper, making it feel like there was a water balloon between my legs. I loved that feeling. I wanted to ‘grow up,’ but that didn’t mean I wanted to give up diapers forever. I already knew that diapers, on some level, were just going to be a part of me forever. My phone vibrated. I quickly grabbed at it, expecting–hoping–it would be a response from Paige. It was. Paige: “Well, well, well. Who let this baby have a phone? And ‘Clark?’ Not the name I imagined you having.” I took a deep breath, slowly releasing it from my nose. Flirtatious banter–oh how I had missed you. Me: “What name did you think I’d have?” Paige: “Paul? Peter? Something with a P, I think.” Me: “There’s not a single P anywhere in my name!” Paige: “Would you have guessed my name is Paige?” Me: “No. But I also don’t think I’ve ever met a Paige in my entire life.” This was the life–my feet kicked up on the coffee table, my hand slipping between my legs to feel my warm and bloated diaper with one hand while the other communicated with my newest friend. “Skipped a few years, have you?” A voice said from behind me. Surprised, I slid my feet off the table, fumbling with my phone before ultimately dropping it on the ground as my cheeks blushed brightly. My only response was a confused: “Huh?” “They grow up so fast,” Mommy sighed dramatically. “He was just a little baby yesterday. Today, he’s smiling at his phone like a teenager. Still in diapers though…” “I…uh…” I felt like I owed her an apology, though I wasn’t exactly sure what I’d be sorry for. “Who’s got you all flustered-looking, Baby?” “Uh, well, this is just some…friend. We’d known each other for a little bit and…” “A girl, Clarky?” “Yes…” She shook her head slowly, smiling as she watched me. “Is that what all this growing up and moving on stuff is about, Clarky? Are you catching feelings for someone?” “N-no, Mommy. I…” “I’m teasing you, Baby.” I sighed and laughed nervously, reaching down to grab my phone, seeing that Paige had responded. Paige: “Truth be told, Paige is my middle name. But my first name is Trudence, believe it or not. But this is the one and only time we make mention of that name. Got it?” “Is it Ava?” Mommy asked. I shook my head. “Is it…someone I know?” I shook my head again. “Is she cute?” I felt my cheeks warming considerably as I nodded. “Be sure to let her know that if she hurts you in any way, I’ll hunt her down and mount her head on my wall.” “Uh…I’ll see if I can work that into the conversation.” And that seemed to be that. Mommy had nothing else to say about the situation–even later when she was changing the incredibly soggy diaper I was wearing while texting with Paige. Usually, this was when she was able to ask me all the hard-hitting questions, knowing that I couldn’t run and hide from them. Tonight, she kept her questions to herself and just went about her job with a smug smile on her face. “Are you too big for the crib, now?” she asked me later, escorting me to the nursery for bedtime–a nightly ritual of ours. “I…I’m still a baby, Mommy. For now.” “For now,” she repeated, wistfulness in her voice. “I’ll take what I can get.” She leaned into the crib, planting an especially juicy kiss on my cheek. “Goodnight, Baby. I love you.” “I love you too, Mommy.” She paused at the door before stepping out into the lit hallway. She didn’t say anything, she just seemed to be taking everything in–taking a mental photograph, perhaps. I rarely had trouble falling asleep while in the crib. A thick diaper between my legs and a stuffed animal at my side, and I felt like I could sleep through an earthquake if I had to. Tonight, however, sleep wasn’t coming all that easily. Part of it was just this energy that I felt running through my body–an excitement about the things to come. Jobs. Money. Buying sandwiches from the deli. I missed life, and it was all starting to feel close again. But there was another feeling too. Anxiety. Life was hard, and I remembered the times that I thought I wasn’t very good at it. How long after I left Mommy’s bubble would I find myself run down by everyday living again? The anxiety turned to restlessness, and the restlessness made me thirsty. I rarely left the crib once Mommy put me into it for the night, but tonight would have to be an exception. I reached around the bars and pulled the lever to release the side of the crib so that I could climb out. Mommy would probably still be downstairs–but that wasn’t a bad thing. Maybe I could sit with her on the couch for a little bit. Maybe she’d even let me sit in her lap. As I made my way down the steps, I could hear Mommy talking–her words getting a little more clear with each step. “...and I feel like a fool,” she was saying to someone. She was probably on the phone, as I was almost positive that I’d have known if she was having a visitor tonight. “This was always the plan, you know–he’d spend some time with me and then go out on his own again. I always knew he’d leave eventually. But I didn’t really think about it all that much, you know? Out of sight, out of mind.” She paused, presumably to let the person on the other end talk. I was tempted to get even closer and stand near the entrance to the living room, but I stayed on the bottom step. “Right,” Mommy said. “Exactly. It’s just… It’s hitting me a lot harder than I thought it would. And I can’t let him know that, of course. I want him to do what he wants to do. I want him to be happy. And if he’s ready to spread his wings again–I’m all for it. But…can I say something a little selfish right now?” Another short pause. “When he’s gone, I have no idea what I’m going to do with myself. I don’t have a spouse. I don’t have children. And when the one thing I have–a grown man who I keep in diapers–is gone…what then? I’m tired of being alone. I…I feel like I’ll have nothing, Neve. Well, besides work–and I can’t let that define my life. It terrifies me.”

Oh, what a topic. When I was 5 or 6, my mom, not the world's most loving or empathetic person got mad at me, for what, I've never been able to figure out. She pinned me down, stripped my clothes off and diapered me (cloth diapers, baby pins, plastic pants) and I had to wear them all day. It was pretty traumatic and that moment imprinted ABDL on my cute little child brain. Not saying it's this way for everyone but for me, diapering myself is the creatively neurotic way I reconstruct that event and turn it from something truly hateful into something very loving.

Good morning Apparently, there is a radio station in Pittsburgh “alternative rock” morning show that is wearing and testing diapers live this morning. One of the radio hosts even is wearing a rearz. They are having quite a conversation about how they feel, and trying to figure out how to wet it, plus playing a interview with a ABDL video

I'm not sure on this one, there have been close calls a few times in the last 2 1/2 years, and while I've done my best to try and remain private, it could be possible somebody in my social circles knows. If they do, they have not said anything. It's definitely something I originally was like, eventually when I'm xyz, I might tell people.. Now that I'm getting closer or have achieved xyz I keep extending the goal line. I just wish diapers were not socially stigmatized so much, it's just a fear that people would take it the wrong way, or feel i'm crazy for not wanting to rush into surgery to correct the issue sort of thing. It definitely is a nuisance at times, especially with others who do not know your secrets. Or when you're stuck in the office and needing to change etc. Do I regret my decisions or have I thought about re-potty training? No. I still love who I am, and I'm happy I've been able to come this far Diapers are something I enjoy, I don't see that ever changing. If I had the opportunity to go back to pre 24/7 Becca days, I still would not change anything aside from starting sooner if I could. I'd rather document everything though, and my feelings on different subjects for readers who may consider this lifestyle for themselves. There are definitely pros & cons with everything.

You have overactive bladder and IBS (symptomatically, you are peeing yourself 20+ times a day and experiencing sudden unloading of your bowels). Just because it's self induced doesn't makes it any less valid. The incident where poop just fell out with no warning is a prime example of why you need diapers now. Broaching the subject with friends is hard, but you can be honest about how your body functions (or doesn't) and how diapers work best to hygienically manage your issues. If they're good friends they'll accept it at that. Easier said than done of course. Do you think they've noticed any signs? Maybe it would be easier if subtly let them know, e.g. by leaving your diaper bag open or something, then explaining.

NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART Author's note. There are only two parts to this scene, and the second one is a tricked out version of something that happened to me in March of 1960, shortly after my 14th birthday. I didn't connect the dots when my mom told me that it was time for me to start changing my own diapers, and in the process to move up from baby to adult. My attitude was “yeah, sure, whatever.” I was too busy pondering how to sync the dual carbs on my Triumph Spitfire (my first race car, which I was running on closed tracks). I wrote this scene as a thank you to Guilend, Littlebopeeper, Cdfm, CCApril, Kerry-- indeed to everyone who has taken the time to read and comment on this story. Hope everyone continues to enjoy the tale. . . . . “I … I'm sorry, but I'm having a hard time coming to grips with this.” Priscilla felt dizzy, incoherent thoughts swirling around in her brain with the force of a category five hurricane. “Aren't you two enemies? How … how is this possible?” Irina laughed, and it was heartfelt. She had had this conversation many times, and in more than one language. “My Dear, we are professionals, and as such we try not to make life too difficult for one another. But Ian and I are also friends. A long time ago, he saved my life, and for a Russian, this is a very big deal. We believe that, if you save someone's life, you are forever responsible for them. But it also means that my family has a life debt … what we call 'a debt of honor'. When Ian comes east, he is under my family's protection, but he is careful never to abuse our friendship. Do not think of him as a spy, for he is not. No. He is the one honorable man in a dishonorable profession. Now, I ask again: who is trying to harm my Ian?” “Calling her my bodyguard? Sorry, Irina; it was a figure of speech. There are many refugees here, and the hospitals all need someone who speaks Khmer, Lao, and Vietnamese. I'm it. I have been helping one hospital, and the others have found out. Now, there are recruiters offering me a lot of money to quit the university and work for somebody else. Priscilla is here to keep order.” “They are offering you money?” Irina snorted derisively. “Milyy, you care less about money than the people in my government, and they are good Communists! Ridiculous!” “Milyy,” Priscilla mouthed. “Sweetheart,” Ian mouthed. “Oh.” Priscilla didn't quite know what to make of that! “And now she is your nanny? Milyy, you never called me 'nanny' when I was changing your diapers!” “You changed his diapers,” Priscilla screeched. “But you're a general,” she managed to add before her voice trailed off. “A general who knows how to change a diaper,” Irina chuckled. “And changing my Ian was great fun” “Did you sleep with him?” Priscilla blurted out what she really wanted to know. “Uh … Pris,” Ian cautioned, “this call is being recorded; half the world is probably listening in.” “The question stands,” Priscilla hissed. “Did you sleep with him?” “No,” Irina lamented; “both governments would have been embarrassed if an American agent and a Russian general became lovers … and I am not a honey trap!” “Honey pot,” Ian corrected; “you are not a honey pot, and you do not set honey traps.” Priscilla looked at him for an explanation. "Using sex to set someone up for blackmail,” he whispered. She nodded. That, at least, was easy to understand. “Da … thank you. But when it comes to women,” she added coquettishly, “my Ian always comes to me for advice.” “An older woman ...” “We are the same age,” Irina laughed. “Milyy, ona zaviduyet. Ty tozhe spish's ney?” “Ian?” “She thinks that you are jealous, and she is very politely asking if we are lovers.” Ian said this loud enough for Irina to overhear. “Da,” Priscilla cut in before Ian had a chance to answer. “I do not understand. Ian, Donald told me that you are to marry … a nurse named Sarah. But he also said that you will be living with Rita and Victoria, and sleeping with them too. And now I discover that you are sleeping with your nanny. Is this an American custom, or did it only start with this feminist revolution of yours?” “American women are very liberated,” Ian conceded, “although few drive tractors.” This was an old Soviet joke, which he was sure would pass right over Priscilla's head. “But they are very bossy. I am the mule who plows their fields.” “And do you like pulling the plow?” “Yes, but the harness is uncomfortable. I want Sarah to make a harness just for me, not buy one in the store that fits poorly.” “I understand. You should not marry until the harness fits well. An unhappy mule will not plow deep, and the seed will fail. The angry farmer will sell the mule, and an animal twice sold may not find a buyer.” “The mule is stubborn by nature. The farmer must find its limits, and respect them.” “This mule will not lack for buyers.” Priscilla had caught on to what they were talking about. “There are many interested parties, but the owner will not sell. It will take time, but they will become a team.” “I see.” There was a pronounced pause while Irina thought it through. “Then we come to the heart of the matter-- marriage, and children. Your diapers do not drive the women who care for you away, and your injuries are less than they see in their work. No, it is as Donald said to me when he called: have you come to terms with the past, or does Nguyen still haunt your thoughts?” “I have let go,” Ian thoughtfully admitted. He had given an enormous amount of time to this very question. “And you were right. I was not honest with Emily, and not honest with myself. I treated her terribly. It was too soon.” “And children? Have you discussed this?” “Not yet … tomorrow with Rita, and on Saturday with everyone.” “And are you ready, Ian? Ready to have another child?” “Yes.” He let it go at that. “Wait … what? Ian? Ian, what … what are you saying?” Priscilla was suddenly struggling to breathe. It felt as if an invisible hand had taken hold of her heart, and was squeezing the life out of her. Whatever she had been expecting, this was not it. “She does not know?” Irina's voice was sharp, her tone openly accusing. “I've told no one.” Ian's tone was just as understandably defensive; he was acutely aware that they were entering the minefield, and that the world as he knew it was about to blow up. “Ty ne smohesh' eto sdelat'! Ty dolzhen skazat' im! Anyone who would bear you a child must know the cost!” “I know.” He was bone weary, his thoughts bankrupt. He had no idea how to begin. “Ian, listen to me. Talk to Priscilla. Talk to her directly. You cannot hide from this, and she is a police officer. She has seen tragedy, and can help you. But have faith in your loves. They too have seen much tragedy.” Irina was right, Ian thought; it was somewhere to begin. Taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, he took the plunge. “Pris, do you remember what I told you this morning about Studies and Operations Group … how we were not in the chain of command?” “Yes,” she responded tentatively. Priscilla felt as if she was mired in quicksand. “And how I had Vietnamese soldiers in my unit?” She nodded. “We did not operate out of a military base. Instead, we used a village that was home to two brothers in my unit … Minh and Quy. They were experienced noncoms, and very good soldiers. They spoke little English, so we communicated in Vietnamese. Over time, we became close friends-- so close that Minh and Anh asked me to be present at their daughter's baptism, and to become Thu's godfather. It helped that we were all Catholics, and took Mass together. A parish priest visited us regularly.” Ian reached into his pocket, and pulled out his wallet. He laid it on the desk, but did not open it. He caressed the worn leather with his thumb. “I was all of twenty-two years old and far from a home that, with my parents gone, seemed not only distant but unreal. Viet Nam felt much more like where I belonged, and Minh and Quy had a sister a year younger than me. Nguyen was beautiful, but there was a grace about her that is hard to put into words, and her smile warmed a place in my heart that I did not know was there. She was my first love, and with her family's permission, I courted and in due course married her-- a Catholic wedding, with our parish priest presiding. The army put up a lot of roadblocks to keep young guys from marrying Vietnamese girls, so I was lucky that I was no longer in the chain of command.” Opening the wallet, Ian removed his driver's license to reveal the photograph concealed beneath. He handled it lovingly. Priscilla's eyes grew large and luminous as she realized what Ian was holding. Her breath caught in her throat. “About a year later, my daughter was born. This is my family, Pris … Nguyen and Linh.” Ian handed her the photograph. Priscilla silently accepted it, but her eyes never left Ian's face. His eyes were soft and filled with love, but then another thought slipped into place, and she could register his pain. She did not need to hear him say it to know that she was holding tragedy in her hands. Finally, she looked down. Ian was sitting atop a brick wall, holding the baby in his arms, with his wife standing beside him, her arm casually draped over his shoulders. They were both smiling at the camera. Nguyen, with her silken black hair falling below her waist, was exquisitely beautiful, and Ian was young and happy. So young, she thought, so very young. “I was wounded again late in sixty nine … my third Purple Heart. Not a threat to life and limb, but enough to earn down time for both me and the unit. R&R, maintenance, resupply-- and a chance to be a husband and father in real time, not just stolen moments. But it didn't last: it couldn't, not with the war expanding deeper into Laos and Cambodia.” “Go on,” Priscilla encouraged. Lost in his memories, Ian had gone silent for several seconds. “In March of seventy, we shot down a Soviet helicopter over Laos, and captured the pilots unharmed-- Irina, and Sergei Federov. They weren't supposed to be there … we weren't supposed to be there … and there was nothing in the manual telling me what to do.” “He interrogated us,” Irina put in, “in Russian. But we were pilots, not engineers. It was easy to play dumb because we were.” “Anyway, in the end I hoisted Irina onto Toby's back, told Sergei to tag along, and off into the jungle we went. I left them outside a Laotian village under Communist control, and returned to the war. Just another day at the office.” “Sergei and I were debriefed in Moskva, and we told everyone about this young officer commanding a unit in the jungle-- a young officer who spoke Vietnamese and Lao, Khmer … and fluent Russian. No one would have believed us except for Toby because everyone knows that Americans cannot speak any language but their own. Ah, but there were stories being told, stories about an American who rode into battle on an elephant, with a huge snake around his shoulders. This was our confirmation, and our intelligence services opened files on the soldier code named Dvarapala … you would say 'demon warrior'. But I knew him as Ian Grady, and for years I watched for him, hoping that he would come east. And when he did, I went to him, only to find him wearing a diaper and depending on a cane. At first, I pitied him, but he would not allow it. Instead, he asked for my help, telling me the terrible story that you have yet to hear-- a story that I brought back to Moskva and told to others. And so began the operation we call Velikyi Poisk-- 'The Great Search'.” “Searching for what?” Priscilla flinched, knowing in her heart that she had asked the wrong question. “For my daughter.” Oh God, no!!! “About three months after Irina and I said our goodbyes, we were in the field at the tail end of a high risk mission. We pulled it off, despite being in intermittent contact with an enemy force that had us heavily outnumbered, but we missed our extraction window because of bad weather. We were on our own for the next forty eight hours, and when the choppers and gunships finally did show up, we were caught out in the open in an intense fire fight. We took casualties …” Ian took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “I lost both of my brothers in law. I spent the next nine months in hospital, afraid for my family, trying to get better so that I could go home. I knew that our unit had been disbanded, but other than that … nothing.” “Not knowing,” he whispered; “waking up every day, not knowing … that was hard. How trivial the diapers seemed in comparison.” Priscilla reached across the desk to grip Ian's hand. She wanted to comfort him, but well knew how pointless words were at moments like this. She could only hope that her touch would somehow reassure him that he was not alone. “When I left Hawaii, my first stop was DC, where I learned that after finally getting back on my feet I had been relegated to a desk … condemned to become just another Pentagon pencil pusher. I resigned my commission on the spot, and made my way out to Saigon on my own. Getting home was easy, but the village was empty … a literal ghost town-- well, except for Pete and Toby. They were still there, growing fat on rats and rice grass. I moved them to a rubber plantation that belonged to a friend, and then I went looking for answers. First stop, Saigon.” Ian let out a deep, frustrated sigh. “I expected to find that the village had been relocated to somewhere in the Delta; they'd done it before. But when I made the rounds, all I got was blank looks. Nobody knew what had happened, or so they claimed. So, I chased down some of the guys … the ones who had written to me in hospital. They all swore that everything seemed normal when they left for reassignment. That's when I started to panic, or as Donnie so eloquently puts it, that's when I lost it. I braced the members of a very well informed club, and believe me, I pushed them really hard.” “Nothing.” Ian was speaking in a dull monotone, and Priscilla was struggling to hold back her tears. She sensed how this terrible story was going to end. “At some point, I lost hope. I figured that the VC had massacred everyone in the village to send a message, or maybe the Buddhists were starting another round of Christian persecution.” “But Buddhists are supposed to be non-violent!” Priscilla was utterly shocked by what she was hearing, her emotions becoming more tangled by the moment. “Tell that to the hundred and eighteen martyrs who have been beatified by the Church.” Ian's anger flared for a fleeting second, then died away. “It came down to closure. I couldn't leave until I had hard, tangible evidence that my family was dead. With nowhere else to turn, and knowing that Donnie was still in country, I tracked him down, only to end up back where it all began-- in Hue, at the Huong Giang hotel. He … he had photos. Nothing disturbed, the bodies still on the ground. Some were hard to identify … the rats ...” “Oh God,” Priscilla moaned. Far away, Irina flinched. This was the story she had told to her father and to her colleagues-- the inconceivable horror of war known only to those who had been there. “I found Nguyen, Anh, my parents-in-law, but not my daughter, and that's when we stumbled upon the truth. Donnie was emphatic: there had been no infants or small children among the dead. They had vanished, the youngest victim being maybe five years old. But Donnie didn't know that I had married … had a daughter. That changed everything. Until that moment, he thought that the children had been taken to be adopted out or trafficked, which is still a possibility …” “Sergei is using his connections in the arms trade to penetrate the trafficking networks,” Irina interrupted. “Often, the same people are involved in both operations. But this becomes much more difficult when the children mature. Prostitution across borders is a vast industry, and in many countries it is protected by the police and the politicians.” “But for the first time, Donnie and I had seriously to consider the possibility that we were dealing with a state actor.” “I don't understand,” Priscilla hesitantly admitted. “Priscilla, there is no one in my country with Ian's gift. No one. Do you understand?” “No. I'm sorry, but I don't get it.” “He may well be the only person in your country with this talent as well. What if his children inherit this ability? Their value would be beyond measure, yes?” “So … so you think that someone knew that Ian had a child, and murdered an entire village to steal her? Only they didn't know which child, so they took them all? Is that what you're saying?” “Da.” Irina firmly believed that this was the answer to the mystery. What she could never say over the telephone was that she had developed a theory that fit all the facts, although she had no hard evidence to support it. Ian nodded in agreement. “Donnie understood the implications, Pris; in the wrong hands, with time and training Linh could be forged into a very dangerous weapon. So, we cut the obvious trade: I placed my language skills at Langley's disposal, and in turn the Agency uses its resources to search for her. This has been going on for eight years now.” “And Irina helps you because you saved her life, and she owes you this 'debt of honor'. It was a statement, not a question. “Correct.” Well, I know who I want to find your daughter, and it damned well isn't my government! Besides, damn it, I like Irina! “And now you're caught up in this as well. I'm sorry.” “Caught up how?” Priscilla was once more lost in the depths. “You just admitted that we have slept together, on a call that's being recorded and will be reviewed by some very powerful people. Priscilla, any woman of child-bearing age who sleeps with me is going to have a security net thrown over her. This is what Sarah, Rita and Vickie have to think about-- the consequences of sharing their lives with a guy who has been under Agency scrutiny since age eleven. At first, the net will be light, but the net will tighten if one of them becomes pregnant, and a very tight net will protect the baby from birth. The Agency will not permit another child to slip through its fingers.” “I haven't met Rita, but Vickie loves you, Ian, and for sure she's not going anywhere. Remember, this is a woman who fought for you with a turkey drumstick.” “I do not know this story,” Irina laughed; “is it good?” “Oh, yes! A patient attacked Ian at Thanksgiving dinner, and Vickie leapt across the table to defend him. She was holding a drumstick, and used it like a cudgel to beat him off!” “Wonderful,” Irina clapped; “wonderful!” “And again, Sarah strikes me as a very tough cookie. No one is going to intimidate her.” “Milyy, it is after midnight, and I must go. I think that you are ready, both for marriage and children. If you need my help on Saturday night, I will be home. Call anytime after your ten o'clock. But I want to meet with you soon … Athens would be best. We have much to discuss. Do svidaniya, Priscilla!” “Do svidaniya, Irina!” Ian disconnected, but he was looking at her curiously. “I remember it from some movie or other; that and da are the only Russian I know. Now, you're overdue for a diaper change, and the deli awaits, if you're still up for it.” Priscilla was making an effort to keep it light, but she was worried about Ian's state of mind. What he had just suffered was a level of trauma that police rarely encountered outside the morgue. Ian walked around his desk, and reached out to clasp her hands. He had his game face on. “Thank you for being here, and for keeping it together. I know this wasn't easy for you. And the deli sounds great … real food at last!” He mustered a grin, but it didn't fool Priscilla for a second. She squeezed his fingers a bit harder. “You did well, Ian, and if you think of it as a dress rehearsal for Saturday night … yes, it will be hard, but do not underestimate the strength and resolve of the people you love. There are a few details that would be best omitted, but otherwise, tell the story as you just told it to me. I promise you that it will end well.” . . . . “Are we, uh, are we really going to do this?” Wide-eyed, Vickie was staring at the breast pump, trying to imagine her body hooked up to this ridiculous Rube Goldberg device. At the moment, it was cheerfully chugging away, the store owner having activated a floor model to demonstrate how it worked. The middle-aged lady, whose gray hair and ample bosom screamed Meemaw, had assured them that the experience would be pleasurable because, rather than constantly suctioning, the machine perfectly mimicked the rhythm of a hungry infant at the breast. She had then excused herself to attend to a nervous looking teenage boy who had come in by himself, and appeared on the edge of a nervous breakdown in the diaper aisle. “I mean, really, this monster weighs over twenty pounds. We're not exactly going to haul it around the living room while we get on with the vacuuming.” “It would be a good time to catch up on our reading, maybe watch a little TV” Rita commented. She was trying to look on the bright side, but like Vickie, she was having a hard time imagining her body being tethered to this monstrosity for weeks at a time. 'It's just not practical,” Vickie lamented. “I mean really. No break between sessions to last more than five hours for the first two months? Doing it for fifteen minutes every two hours for a seventy two hour stretch? And pumping both breasts simultaneously? Are you kidding me? How are we supposed to work, never mind sleep?” “I'm going to do it,” Sarah countered, her expression a study in grim determination. “And I agree with her ...” Sarah nodded in the direction of the store owner. They could hear her asking the boy his name and age. Tommy was fourteen. “And do you need diapers for bedwetting, or wear them both day and night?” In the quiet of the store, they could all hear the conversation unfolding two aisles away as if it were taking place within arm's reach. “... that we each need our own machine, or rather, machines-- one for home, and one for the office.” “Expensive,” Vickie observed. “We can afford it,” Sarah sneered. She was letting Vickie rattle on, but she had already decided that they would be leaving the store with six breast pumps and associated appliances, and that they would be attending one of the upcoming night classes teaching how to keep the pumps germ free and the milk that they would express safe and sanitary. Tommy was nervously explaining to the lady that he was a bed wetter, but he confessed that he still had daytime accidents as well, and that his parents insisted he be diapered for car trips, the movies, church, and family gatherings. “Poor kid,” Vickie whispered. “I didn't get out of nighttime diapers until I was nine.” “I think that at your age we should be looking at adult diapers,” the lady observed. “And are you using rubber pants, or baby pants?” “Baby pants,” he said in a subdued voice. “I see,” she mused. “Do you know what brand you wear?” “I have them on,” he cringed. “Mom made me wear a diaper to make it easier for you to help me.” “That was smart. I tell you what. Let's go into the storeroom; you can undress, and I'll take your measurements. Adult diapers come in different sizes, and you will probably need baby pants with a wider crotch to protect against leaks. Your new diapers will be much bulkier than your old ones, but they will protect you a lot better. Won't that be wonderful?” “Thank you,” he said politely. He meekly followed the Meemaw into the storeroom. About a minute later, she returned to check on her three female customers. She was curious about their interest in breast pumps, since it was obvious that their pregnancies could not be far advanced. “So, what have you decided,” she asked cheerfully. “We'll need a half dozen pumps total,” Sarah indicated. “Plus all of the accessories … and we'll need to sign up for a class sometime in the next couple of weeks.” “Wonderful. And I'm sorry that I had to wander off. Two or three boys like Tommy there come into the store every week. Entering puberty, they need to make the transition to adult diapers, but the poor dears are always so embarrassed. And their baby pants are never big enough to cope with the extra bulk.” The keen eyed store owner shrewdly appraised Vickie's rear; the bulk of the woman's obvious diaper put anything in her store to shame! “I cannot help but notice your diaper, Dear; it must be very absorbent, but is it comfortable?” Vickie instantly turned crimson with embarrassment, much to Sarah's delight. Even Rita was amused. “She's wearing one of our hospital diapers,” Sarah hastily cut in, “along with baby pants and a canvas diaper cover. This is what she uses away from work, but at the office I keep her in a thinner adult diaper from a local diaper service.” “Lullaby?” “Yes! Do you know it?” “I do, indeed. You should have a peek at our adult diaper line. I guarantee you that our diaper is superior, both in terms of absorbency and wear. And it would only be slightly more visible to the naked eye. Reducing the number of times you have to change her at work is a good trade off.” “Do you hear that, baby girl? Would you like to look at some new diapees?” Sarah was cooing in the singsong way that mothers worldwide adopted when addressing their babies. “She's your baby,” the lady asked. This was getting more and more interesting. “She is,” Sarah confirmed. “And what do you call me, baby girl?” “Mommy,” Vickie whispered. “I'm sorry, sweetheart,” the lady snickered, “but I didn't hear you.” “Mommy,” Vickie repeated in a much louder voice. “And who is this nice lady,” Sarah asked as she pointed at Rita. “Auntie Rita,” Vickie said, making sure that her voice was loud enough that she wouldn't have to repeat herself. “She's very well behaved,” the lady commented. “You have done a good job raising your baby girl.” “Oh, she's often a brat, I assure you. I wish I could find a pacifier for her, but she's such a big baby that I've had no luck so far.” “Well, then, this is your lucky day. I keep a stock of pacifiers for older children, including teenagers. I was just about to get one for Tommy before I change him; would you like to check them out?” “Absolutely! Sometimes she's so cranky … a nice pacifier is just what this baby girl needs!” “My pleasure. Here, let me direct you to our adult diaper line. The stock is below the counter at the end of this aisle, but I always keep one on the counter for customers to examine. Why don't you look them over while I fetch the pacifiers. Then, you'll have to excuse me for a few minutes while I take Tommy's measurements and select the right diaper for him.” The lady pointed at the display, but kept walking to the back of the sales counter. She was back a moment later, with several pacifiers in different colors. Sarah instantly picked out a large pink one, and waved it in front of Vickie's face. “Open up, baby girl; here's your new binkie!” Vickie opened wide, and began instantly to suck contentedly on her new paci. It was so easy to make Sarah happy, and to her surprise she discovered that she was really enjoying the attention. The pacifier was actually quite soothing. The lady reached under the counter, and took three adult diapers in different sizes off the various stacks. She then excused herself to go diaper her customer, but not before inviting Sarah to bring Vickie back to the storeroom once she was finished with Tommy. As long as the diaper on display did not touch the baby's skin, she explained, Sarah was free to try the various sizes to get the best fit. Sarah was delighted to accept the lady's kind offer, and she asked in return whether they could help with the boy's diaper change. “That would be very embarrassing, but what would really help is to let him see your baby's diaper. If he knew that there were even bigger babies wearing diapers, it would make the transition to adult diapers a lot easier for him.” “We'd be delighted to help, wouldn't we baby girl?” Vickie nodded while she kept sucking on her new binkie. “Then give me a moment to lock up the shop, and the four of us can all retreat to the storeroom.” The lady stormed off to the front, locked the door, and turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED. “Now,” she said when she returned, “let's go see how Tommy is getting along.” First knocking on the door and opening it just enough to check that Tommy was still wearing his baby diaper and baby pants while being otherwise undressed, she flung the door open and led her three female customers into the room. Tommy's eyes widened in shock when he saw the pretty lady, whom he guessed was a bit younger than his mother, happily sucking on a big pacifier. He turned to the store owner, his look more confused than concerned. “These ladies have offered to help us sort out your new diapers,” she explained. “And this nice lady wants to show you her diaper, which is much, much thicker than the one you will be wearing. We all thought that you would find your new diapers less threatening if you saw what a really thick diaper looks like. And here ...” She reached into one of the pockets on her dress, and brought out another pacifier, this one in baby blue. “I thought that this might help you as well.” Like Sarah, she waved it in front of Tommy's eyes, and like Vickie, he opened his mouth to accept the gift. He began sucking without conscious thought. Sarah unfastened and lowered Vickie's pants, revealing the canvas diaper cover underneath. She took the key out of her pocket, and unlocked the cover, but left it in place. “My baby girl sometimes tries to take her diaper off without permission, so I keep this locking cover in place at all times to keep her from doing so. I hope that you don't give your mommy a hard time about your diapers, Tommy, because if you do ...” Sarah paused to lower Vickie's cover, exposing the pink baby pants hiding beneath. Tommy's eyes widened when he saw the pink vinyl covering, and he began sucking madly on his pacifier when he grasped how thick this big baby's diapers really were. “... if you do,” Sarah continued, “your mother can put you in a much thicker diaper like this one, and get one of these covers to keep it locked in place. Then all of your friends would know what a big baby you really are. You wouldn't like that, would you?” The boy nodded vigorously, and then blushed when he realized that he was wetting his baby diaper. “So, are you going to be a good boy for your mommy, and wear your diapers like she wants you to?” Sarah's voice was syrupy. The teenager again nodded vigorously in agreement, as his pee continued to flow unabated. It was a good thing that his mommy had folded a couple of baby diapers up, and inserted them to act as soaker pads. The lady took note of the boy's discomfort, and guessed correctly that he was having an “accident.” “You didn't bring a diaper bag with you, did you?” The young teen shook his head, and looked down in shame. “That's all right,” she soothed; “I have a diaper pail here that we can use. Give me your number, and I'll call your mother to come pick you up. If you need to poop, go ahead and use your diaper; I'll clean you up, and spare your mother the trouble. It must be very hard on her, having a boy your age still in diapers.” Tommy's head hung in shame, and he started to cry. Sarah stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the big baby, hugging him close. “It's all right,” she said consolingly as she patted his back. “You can't help it, and I'm sure that your mother doesn't mind caring for you. Now, give your Auntie Sarah a big hug.” The boy did so, burying his head in Sarah's shoulder, his tears flowing freely. Vickie was sucking frantically on her pacifier, overcome with jealousy. Mommy Sarah had never hugged her this way! When they were leaving the shop, with new diapers for Vickie and the half dozen breast pumps, Sarah's baby girl refused to let go of her pacifier until mommy threatened her with a public spanking.

A new picture. While I was drawing this I assumed the young lady was in that stall to put on a diaper, but after I finished I had to wonder if she was planning on putting that diaper on someone else.. .

Billy and the Swapped Baggage – Short Story. “This is going to be my worst holiday ever!” Billy thought Billy followed his mother angrily. He tilted his head down and let his medium-length hair hang in front of his eyes. He wanted his hair to be longer, but his mother wouldn’t let him. Boys’ hair isn’t that long, she used to say before they went to the hairdresser. Billy dragged his luggage through the departure hall of the airport. Going on a trip was nice, but the way it had to happen was not. Billy knew he had a nocturnal problem and there was nothing he could do about it, and that the pee would come at night in his sleep when it came. But now it was before dinner! Why did he have to wear all that stupid Drynite already from home when it was nowhere near bedtime? His mother had argued that once they arrived at the airport, they would have to go through check-in, then security, then wait at the gate to get to the plane, and there was little chance of changing underwear. But still? Having to walk into that stupid Drynite. That alone made it his worst holiday so far. At home, Billy had spent a long time looking at himself in the mirror. First he had quickly put on the Drynite - he didn’t like to see himself naked - and then he had looked at himself with all his clothes on. Not quite the clothes he’d like to wear, not quite the style he’d like to wear, but at least they covered the Drynite well. His sister Mila, twelve years old and three years older than him, walked along in a happy mood. She was especially excited: it was the first time the family was travelling by plane, and she was amazed. She didn’t care about the little thundercloud that came along at the back of the queue. Billy’s mum tried to cheer him up. “You were so good in the school play at the end of the year, playing the title role. It looked really brilliant. And that was when it was the first time that you had ever acted in a play.” Billy was silent; it didn’t help. He’d been acting all his life, so he’d had plenty of practice, but she wouldn’t understand. Dad was checking the tickets and nervously scanning the area for the right desk. “David!” he suddenly heard someone shout and everyone looked around for the source of the sound. “Hey, hello Dirk, I didn’t know you were going on holiday too?” David and Dirk, two of each other’s colleagues, introduced their families. The family stood together in a small group and Billy faced a girl of about the same age who smiled kindly at him. “Hello,” she said shyly to Billy. Billy still felt furious inside, but of course it had nothing to do with the girl. He did his best to return the smile and quietly said “hello” in return. “Look, we have the same suitcase,” the girl said, pointing to her own luggage. Billy took a good look. He put his suitcase next to it for easy comparison. It did look exactly the same, he couldn’t detect any difference between them. Suddenly there was a horn and a car with a bunch of trolleys in the back drove towards them. Everyone quickly gathered their luggage and took a few steps to the side. The two fathers said goodbye and agreed to have dinner together after they had passed through check-in and security. With a sigh, Billy placed his tray on their table in the restaurant and sat down in his chair. He immediately felt the bulge under his bottom from the Drynite, and if he had a real cloud over his head, there would have been thunder and lightning all over it now. Billy had already noticed several toilets here and it seemed there would have been more than enough time to change. “Sorry, Billy,” said Els, his mother. It’s my first time on a plane too. “I didn’t know there would be so much time here.” In silence, Billy started to finish his plate. His mum had better understand that he was in a bad mood. Billy knew that there were underpants in his rucksack. His mum was terrified of luggage getting lost and everyone, including herself, had to carry clean underpants, a toothbrush and toothpaste in their hand luggage. He was eager to go to the toilet and switch his underwear until they had to board the plane. But he didn’t want to argue with his mum, so he put the idea out of his mind. “Here we are!” David waved to Dirk, who also came up. The girl came and sat down next to Billy with her food and they soon got to talking. They had some interests in common, such as theatre, drawing, crafts and reading. As Billy’s stomach filled and he chatted, his mood lifted a little. The other family left. Their flight had left fifteen minutes earlier. They were going to Turkey, while Billy was going to Portugal with his parents. The flight itself was disappointing for Billy. The take-off was exciting, but the time afterwards was like being on a big bus. It was dark and cloudy and there was not much to see out of the window. Billy kept himself entertained with a book for the first half hour of the flight, but then his mum made him put it aside to go to sleep. Billy didn’t feel tired and there was a lot of light and noise, making it difficult to sleep. With the monotonous hum of the engines and the lights turning off, Billy finally managed to fall asleep. Still half asleep, Billy missed much of the landing, check-out and taxi ride to the hotel. In the hotel room, his parents didn’t bother to change his clothes, they just took off his shoes, jumper, stockings and trousers. They saw that his Drynite was still dry, so it didn’t need to be changed. The luggage was put aside in a corner and soon the hotel room was quiet and dark as everyone went to sleep. The next morning, Billy woke up to his father muttering on the phone. While he was on the phone, he walked around and fiddled with Billy’s luggage. Els and Mila were also woken by the noise. David came back to Els and they whispered for a while. “Billy’s suitcase has been swapped with my colleague’s daughter.” Els sighed at the news. “They must have switched it by mistake before checking in. Dirk has already made enquiries at the hotel, and the cost of sending the luggage back is not for the company: after all, they have not made any mistake. And then there is the fact that it can easily take six days for everything to arrive”. “It’s almost not worth it.” Els thought. “That’s why he suggests that we just take the luggage home ourselves and exchange it later. Then nothing can happen to it.” “Tell him that’s fine. We’ll go shopping for Billy here.” David called back to Dirk to make further arrangements. Billy suddenly felt icy cold. There was a pack of Drynites in his suitcase! The other girl would find out he was wearing them! What would she think of him! Billy was now even more certain that this was going to be his worst holiday ever. “My Drynites,” he whispered to himself. Mila heard what was going on and knew what Billy was thinking. “Don’t worry about it. You will probably never see her again and who knows, maybe she has the same problem as you? Then she certainly won’t say anything about it!” “No, that is not possible. I’m the only one!” shot Billy. “No, you’re not the only one. I also met two boys, only a year younger than you, who also wear nappies to sleep. It was at Heleen’s birthday party. I saw the nappies over there in the bathroom. I think those boys were called Dries and Jasper.” Billy had a look of disbelief on his face. “That can’t be,” he said. “Anyway,” she said. “They used the same excuse like yourself. That they were for a little nephew who comes to visit once in a while,” she said with a smile. “Well, we can take whatever we want out of the suitcase and use it for Billy.” David said, ending the call with Dirk. “That’s nice, then we can get Billy into a pair of fresh clothes.” Els picked up the suitcase, put it on a table and opened it. “Let’s see what we can find.” Els looked around and found a pair of red shorts and a yellow t-shirt. The T-shirt showed that it was actually a girl’s model, but that was not very noticeable. She fished his underpants out of Billy’s carry-on and sent Billy to the bathroom to wash up. After David, Els and Mila had also freshened up, the family set off together to find the hotel restaurant for breakfast. After breakfast, David, Els and Mila wanted to explore the hotel and the surrounding area. Billy preferred to play on his games console in his room. David saw that his son needed some peace of mind and allowed it. They agreed that Billy would stay in the room until they came to fetch him for lunch, or to call on his mobile phone if he wanted to arrange something else. Billy settled down on the terrace of the hotel room and enjoyed a few games on his game console. But after an hour, the batteries were dead. Billy put his console aside to recharge and looked around to see what else he could do. He was drawn to the suitcase that was still open. He walked over and spread the clothes out on the bed one by one so he could have a good look. He was taken aback when he lifted a nightgown out of the case. There was a pack of Drynites too! Not the one he had; there was a girl on the wrapper instead of a boy, but otherwise it was the same. He wondered if his sister was telepathic. She correctly predicted that the girl had the same problem as he did. Billy was relieved to have an ally, someone he knew he could trust not to tell his secret. He took a Drynite out of the box and put it underneath his pillow ready for the coming night. This one had a different design than he was used to, but he didn’t mind. This one looked pretty nice to him. Under the pack of Drynites was another pink onesie with Disney princesses on it, which Billy also prepared for the next night. Happy now, he went through the rest of the clothes. He liked to lay everything out, make combinations and try to imagine how it would look on him. When he saw a particularly beautiful dress with glitter, he couldn’t hold back any longer. He took off his clothes, put on the dress and stood in front of the mirror to look at himself. Billy looked at himself and felt himself getting all warm. This looked like it should. With tears of happiness, he turned in a circle in front of the mirror and lifted up the bottom of the dress. After a moment of admiration, Billy looked back into the suitcase and saw something else he wanted to try on. He took a nice skirt and top and went back to the mirror. He admired himself one last time and then took the dress off. The underpants with the bulge in the front sticking out under the dress made him shudder. He quickly turned away from the mirror to avoid seeing that image again. He looked through the clothes in the suitcase and saw a pack of knickers. He took off his own boy’s underpants and put on the girl’s. Standing in front of the mirror again, he felt a little better. He quickly tucked his boy parts back between his legs, squeezed his legs together and stood up nicely. Now there was no sign of any bulge near his crotch. This was the way it was supposed to be. He was so jealous of all the girls who were born the way he was meant to be. Billy put on the top and skirt and rummaged through the luggage. After all, he had heard that he could use anything he wanted? He saw some hairpins in the toilet bag. He sat down on a chair in front of the mirror and fiddled with the pins in his hair. It wasn’t easy! Billy only paid attention to the suitcase and the mirror. He shut everything else out of his world for the moment. While he was busy with the pins, he suddenly heard the lock click and the door open. David, Els and Mila stood there looking at him in bewilderment. “Billy, what are you wearing now?” exclaimed Els. “Take that off, it’s not for you!” Billy’s eyes filled with tears. He had felt so happy for the last hour, and the disgust he now felt for his mother was emotionally damaging and heartbreaking. “But Mum!” cried Billy. “Why do you always make me pretend to be somebody I’m not? Why did you make me a boy, why don’t you love me?” Els had expected a lot, but certainly not that answer. David pushed everyone into the room and closed the door behind him. Els sat down and took Billy on her lap to comfort her. “I love you,” she sobbed back. As tears streamed down Billy’s cheeks, David and Els remained silent for a moment. With Billy’s last statement, some pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place. The reason why he had always looked so depressed. Mila’s Barbies that had disappeared and been found in Billy’s room, the glittering shoes that Billy always looked at in the shoe shop before going to the boys’ section. His aversion to football and rough play. That Billy usually came home with girlfriends and rarely with boyfriends. That he wanted a doll for his birthday… The longer they sat, the more things came up. “Billy,” David asked. “Do you really want to be like a girl?” “No, Daddy, I don’t want to be like a girl. I am a girl already. I just don’t have the right kind of body.” Els made a quick switch in the back of her mind. “Billy, no problem. Keep the skirt and top on. Come and eat with us later that way. And if you want to try the other dresses, skirts, jumpsuits and everything else for the rest of the week, go ahead. We think it would be good.” Billy looked up at his mum. “So you do love me…” he said with a big smile. Mila, meanwhile, had rummaged through her own luggage and came in carrying a small make-up kit. “Come on, my little sister. We need to do something about your eyes.” Mila took her time with the eye shadow and then continued with the nail polish, lipstick and make-up. With a smile that David, Els and Mila had never seen before, Billy looked at himself in the mirror. “This is going to be my best holiday ever!” Billy said

Stephen King’s Gerald’s Game is about BDSM that goes horribly wrong. There is even an ABDL reference in it